The something's rotten in Block Island Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon drags Illya along as well as Mark Slate and Kitt Kittridge to crew for him on his yacht the Pursang; competing in the annual Block Island regatta. As so often it happens, things don't quite go to plan. Pre-Saga
1. Chapter 1

Armed with a supply of ginger ale and a bottle of non-drowsy motion sickness pills, Illya Kuryakin stepped onto the deck of Solo's yacht, the Pursang. He prepared himself mentally for the trip, though he'd be taking it against his will.

It wasn't for anything as light hearted as a day out on the water, no...it was Napoleon's plan to compete in a regatta of all things.

Illya reluctantly signed on to be part of his partner's crew, otherwise Solo threatened to blackmail him….something to do with a little faux pas the Russian had made on his last assignment.

Illya conveniently left it out of his report but he made the mistake of telling telling Napoleon as he felt a bit guilty about not including it. It was nothing of great importance, though Mr. Waverly would not be pleased that it had been deliberately left it out of the mission report. Then again Illya could have filed an addendum, but Napoleon told him not to do so...now he knew why.

This would be the last time Illya would give his partner fodder for extortion.

Mark Slate and Kitt Kittridge were the additional crewmembers and the Russian wondered what Solo had done to convince them to join him.

He decided it was best not to bring it up as they might ask why he was there. Illya didn't feel like coming up with a cover story as he was simply not in the mood; his stomach was feeling just a bit queasy as the dramamine hadn't kicked in yet.

Once the boat was fully stocked, Solo hauled out the jib bag, ran the sheets, while they removed the cover from the sail. He instructed them to how uncleat the sheet to eventually pull the sail up, after which they'd tightened the ropes.

He checked the wind direction again before the mooring lines were cast off. Glancing at the compass; Napoleon hit the throttle and the boat was off.

"You know for someone who dislikes the water, you sailing seems quite absurd," Illya mumbled as he stood behind Solo.

Napoleon was ignoring him for the moment as he was maneuvering the yacht, motoring out of the harbor under power.

"Get ready to unfurl the sails as soon as I cut the engine," he called out.

The others stood ready and as soon as Napoleon gave the command, they dropped the sheets, unfurling the white sails that instantly caught the wind.

It was a strong tailwind and would help the Pursang travel northwards as they hugged the coastline, hopefully allowing them to make good time. She moved effortlessly, gliding across the waves.

"I don't dislike the water Illya,"Napoleon finally responded." I dislike being in it, that's all. "He paused for a moment, reciting a dramatic quote.

" _My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea,and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me."_

Illya nodded. "Spouting Longfellow my friend? ' _We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep_.' Please make sure that is not where we end up going?"

"Quoting James, very nice Illya. I promise we're not going to sink. The Pursang is a sound little lady."

"Napoleon, did you not once tell me you were afraid of the water because you almost drowned as a child?"

"Yes, I am afraid of it, I won't deny it, but everytime I take this boat out I'm confronting my fears. Just like you need to confront your fear of dogs. You really should just try to get along with Wollman.* He really is a great little dog."

"My friend, you handle your fears your way and I will take care of mine my way," Kuryakin sipped some ginger ale just in case. "Is it not enough that I agreed to do this with you, knowing I do get seasick."

"And you're to be commended for it tovarisch, so in a way you're confronting one of your fears by doing so."

"I am not afraid of being seasick: I just do not like it. If you have ever been seasick Napoleon then you would understand how unpleasant a feeling it can be."

"I've been on the water enough to have experienced it, but not as badly as you do. I swear I've seen you turn green at times."

"I do not turn green. The skin does not actually change pigment. The face is highly vascularized which gives Caucasians a nice, healthy, pink tint.

When one gets sick, the blood rushes out of the face to the stomach where the body needs it most at the moment. Without the red tint of blood, one is left with a yellowish skin mixed with bluish-looking vessels. If you recall the color pallet, yellow mixed with blue creates green, or in this case the illusion of green."

Mark Slate took a turn manning the help while Napoleon went below, preparing their lunch, Illya on the other hand had fallen asleep on the cushioned bench in the stern; in spite of the pills he took for seasickness being non-drowsy, they still knocked him out at least at that's what the others presumed. Or maybe Illya forced himself to go sleep as he was feeling a little nauseous.

Mark made sure there was a bucket left beside the sleeping Russian just in case. Kitt was sitting up by the bow, keeping watch with a pair of binoculars, apparently a few dolphins were playfully swimming alongside the boat.

"Lunch is on!" Napoleon called as he carried up a tray of sandwiches and bowls of coleslaw, macaroni salad and coleslaw."I've got ham and cheese, roast beef and turkey so take your pick."

"Great mate, I'm starved. Nothing like the salt air to give you an appetite. Hey Kittridge come on," Mark called out."What about Illya?"

"What about Illya?" Kuryakin said, right from behind the Brit."

"Jes-us! You nearly made me jump out of my skin! I thought you were asleep."

"Leave it to a Kuryakin to magically appear at the mention of food," Napoleon winked.

The anchor was lowered just off shore, wherever that was, allowing them all to sit and eat. There was plenty of time to reach their destination. as the regatta wasn't for another two days. Napoleon's plan was to arrive early and see the sights which to him meant the bikini clad tourists who'd be enjoying the beaches of Block Island.

Located in the Atlantic Ocean about 13 miles south of the coast of Rhode Island, 14 miles east of Montauk Point, Long Island, New York, and was separated from the Rhode Island mainland by Block Island Sound.

The island was a popular summer tourist destination, known for its bicycling, hiking, sailing, fishing, and beaches. It boasted two historic lighthouses, Block Island North Light, on the northern tip of the island, and Block Island Southeast Light, on the southeastern side. Most of the northwestern tip of the island remained an undeveloped natural area

Every summer the island hosted Block Island Race Week, a competitive, week-long sailboat race. Yachts would compete in various classes, sailing courses in Block Island Sound and circumnavigating the island.

After lunch Illya took his turn at manning the helm, though Slate taking it with a grain of salt the Russian had extensive experience on the water as well as beneath it, since Illya had been stationed aboard a Soviet Submarine while in the Russian navy; though that little tidbit was classified, and he couldn't tell Mark.

It wasn't long before they reached their destination. The sails were lowered and Napoleon took over, guiding the Pursang to the harbor under power.

"Crikey, what's that awful stench?" Kitt moaned.

"Fish, dead fish I would venture a guess. Look!" Illya called out.

The waters around them were filled with thousands of dead fish bobbing up and down, and being pulled along in the current.

Mark lifted the binoculars."Good Lord, the beaches are covered with them!"

They continued to the harbor and moored along the main dock, keeping the Pursang there until the dockmaster was found and they'd be assigned a temporary slip.

Napoleon and the others walked along the dock, heading to the only visible office. When they arrived, the sign above the door indicated dockmaster, bait and fishing tackle.

A brass bell on the door rang as they entered, and a white haired man behind a counter greeted them. He was wearing what looked like a surgical mask.

"Hello there, what can I do you you fellows?"

"We're here for the regatta and need a slip for my yacht, she's 30ft," Napoleon said.

"Sure, we've got plenty of those, but we may not have the regatta, shame too."

"Why's that?"

"Can't you smell it Mister? We've had fishkills for weeks now, fouling up the water and our beaches. All but ruined the tourist trade this year. Everybody's gone home. Who'd want to go to the beach with nothing but rotting fish to look at and smell. No matter how often we've cleaned 'em up, they just keep washing up again and again. Now we've started having some sharks wash up, and there was even a whale beached itself on the the Northwest shore. Never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Has it affected the shore on the mainland?" Illya asked.

"That's the strangest thing, the fish are only washing up here. Nope, never seen anything like it and I was born and raised on the island, be here seventy years next month. No siree."

The hairs on the back of Solo's neck went up, and he felt a chill, making him shiver. His instincts were shouting at the top of their lungs to him.

"You boys thinking what I'm thinking," he whispered to the others.

Illya, Mark and Kitt nodded their agreement. Something was rotten in Block Island and they suspected it wasn't just the fish.


	2. Chapter 2

Every summer the island hosted Block Island Race Week, a competitive, week-long sailboat race. On odd years, the event is held by the Storm Trysail Club, and on even years by the Block Island Club. Yachts competed in different classes, sailing courses in the sound and circumnavigating the island.

Napoleon was very familiar with the competition, having engaged in it off and on ever since he'd first gotten his yacht but he hadn't been back in quite a few years now.

He was unusually quiet and contemplative as he and the others returned to the Pursang for a confab before doing so, he barked out some orders and the other's could easily read his displeasure.

"Get some brooms and do a clean sweep of the deck down fore and aft. When that's done, flemish up the lines!" He called out, using a nautical term meaning to tidy up ropes by making a Flemish coil and that was done by taking the end of a line and laying it in a tight flat spiral on the deck.

"This isn't a cruise ship you know." By the looks on their faces, they had no idea what he was talking about, and Napoleon demonstrated. Realizing his tone of voice and barking orders was inappropriate; he apologized. Though they'd come along to be his crew, these men were his friends and coworkers and deserved better.

He quickly passed out some beers from a cooler and gathered them for their meeting.

The stench from the rotting fish was obviously getting to the men, and the beers, one by one were set aside nearly unfinished as the smell didn't exactly help the palate.

Mark was the first to speak.

"I don't know? Could we just be a little paranoid about all this? Couldn't it be a natural thing happening here...I mean I've seen fish kills, and some pretty bad at that."

"I agree," Kitt said."I was on a vacay in Florida once, stayed in a place called Apalachicola. It's a small city just over 2 miles set on a river and bay of the same name.

Gorgeous place."

"Get to your point Kitt?" Napoleon said.

"Crikey, aren't you a bit on the grumpy side," the Aussie countered.

"That is because he is unhappy his regatta may be cancelled," Illya said. "So your point Kitt?"

"Oh sorry, well when I was in Apalachicola there was this massive fish kill, they said it was caused by something called a red tide."

"Yes I have heard of this," Illya said." It produces toxins that are particularly harmful to fish, marine animals and birds."

"Exactly, this kill was chockablock with dead fish, birds and dolphins, even heard tell of a few of those odd creatures dying...tsk, what are they called? Manatees, yes that was it. They look like walruses but without the tusks...would you believe they say sailors used think they were mermaids?"

"Let's get back on topic," Napoleon said."So you're saying this toxin caused the massive kill off of marine life. I'm familiar with red tide and fish kills as well, but I never knew it was a toxin that caused them."

"Yes, up from the mouth of the river to the bay and along the coast there." Kit said. "So it travelled a might far."

"Where's this toxin comes from Illya?" Mark asked.

"It is caused by an explosive growth and accumulation in coastal waters of certain microscopic algae, predominantly dinoflagellates. Some species of dinoflagellates produce dangerous toxins. These harmful algae blooms can pose a serious and recurring threat to human health, wildlife, marine ecosystems, fisheries. That is if what has happened here was indeed this red tide.

"Well I guess you could include economies in that. No beaches going, no tourists, or in this case regattas," Napoleon said.

"I didn't see anything that looked red in the water, did you mates?" Mark asked.

The all agreed on that.

"However,"Illya said." I have read these tides are not necessarily red and can have no discoloration at all."

"Block Island is about 13 miles south of the coast of Rhode Island and 14 miles east of Montauk Point on Long Island so it would make sense the mainland and Long Island should have affected by a red tide because of the currents and the tides, yet they weren't."

Napoleon scratched his head. "I've never seen fish kills that were confined like this one is, as the dockmaster said, just around the island... especially one of this magnitude. There was absolutely no sign of red tide or a fish kill when we passed Montauk Point. Granted I had to keep the Pursang farther offshore there to minimize the current and avoid the riptides there, so we could have missed dead fish washed up on shore, but I doubt it."

"Illya could this toxin thing actually kill a whale?" Mark asked.

"Brevetoxins affect a variety of marine wildlife. Aquatic organisms can be exposed to them in several ways... coming into contact with them in the water, ingesting them, inhaling toxins and as well as consuming toxic prey.

The toxins can accumulate in primary consumers such as zooplankton, fish, bivalves and other filter feeders. From these organisms, they can be transferred to predators such as fish, crustaceans and other bottom-dwelling organisms.

The accumulation of brevetoxins in these marine animals and environments such as seagrass and sediment can _eventually_ lead to the transfer of the toxins to larger animals such as sea turtles, birds and marine mammals. For it to have affected a whale though, the toxins would have had to be substantial in the environment and been here for awhile, I think. Basically it is an illustration of the circle of life, that is if this occurrence is indeed natural?"

"Doesn't seem natural does it mate? Illya you remembered all these facts from reading?" Kitt asked.

"Eidetic memory," Napoleon said."That means, and I say this painfully, Illya remembers everything he reads."

"Painfully?" Illya's brows raised in surprise.

"Well you do tend to be a walking encyclopedia at times."

"And there is something wrong with knowing the facts? Unlike you my friend, I prepare myself for an assignment by reading up on where we are going."

"Didn't read up on Block Island did you mate?" Mark chuckled. "Otherwise you might have learned about this mess here beforehand."

"I had no time as I was practically shanghaied into this trip."Illya stopped himself, lest he slip and say something about being blackmailed by his partner.

"There's a coast guard station near New Harbor," Napoleon said. "Maybe it would be worth heading over there to speak to them." Napoleon suggested. "We can sail…"

"Napoleon I saw there were motorbike rentals," Illya interrupted him." Might we stick to land for a bit?"

"Stomach not good?"

"Only when I am on your boat; on terra firma I am fine."

Napoleon huffed, deciding to put it to a vote.

"All in favor of the bikes say aye?"

He was outnumbered three to one.

The mopeds were inexpensive to rent and they rode them up through the main drag of the Old Harbor. The road was lined with quaint shops selling local goods and crafts, and there were several restaurants.

Given the island was so small they could get anywhere by in about 20 minutes or less. The rental agent, a lovely older lady named Maude warned them there were some hilly roads, and some flat stretches but lots of beautiful views.

"We have some excellent hotels if you're interested. The Spring Hill Hotel was built in 1954; oldest hotel on the island and then there's the Oceanview, it's the largest hotel on Block Island built in 1872. President Ulysses S. Grant stayed at there and held a special session with the U.S. Supreme Court so its members wouldn't have to interrupt their vacations by returning to Washington. And did you know," Maude said with pride."Captain Kidd was known to frequent Block Island. There are people that think he hid at least some of his buried treasure on our shores!"

"Thank you for all the interesting information Maude," Napoleon kissed her hand, making her blush."We're here for the regatta but I heard it may be cancelled."

"Oh yes, such a pity but this pesky fish kill is endless and has driven off the tourists. You gentlemen are the first to rent scooters from me since it all started. So odd how it never seems to end. I've seen fish kills all my life but nothing like this. They clean the beaches and the fisherman with their nets have been clearing as much of them from the water as possible, yet the fish are back covering the beaches with their slimy little bodies. Tsk...it's terrible really and not to mention smelly."

"Thank you again Miss Maude," Illya gave her a polite bow as he and the others finally exited the office. "Napoleon I need to stop at one of the shops first."

"Tovarisch, we'll eat in a little while. I was planning to take you to the Block Island Boating Club. I'm a member there, or actually the Solo family are registered members. My dad used to bring us here sometimes for the summer, when I was a kid."

"I do not wish to buy food, I want to find some vials or small covered glass jars. I think taking some samples of the fish and water are in order."

"But you don't have a lab mate, how can you examine them," Mark asked.

"No I do not, but we do have a field office in Rhode Island with lab facilities, if you recall? They can helicopter here to meet us, as I read in a brochure at the dockmasters office; there is a small airport on the it is located slightly inland, which is really only a matter of minutes away since the island appears to be quite small.

"Good thought tovarisch," Napoleon patted him on the back. "I'd forgotten about that."

Solo looked around, scanning the street. "There's the general store. Bet we'll find what you need Illya."


	3. Chapter 3

After getting what he needed at the General Store Illya announced the Coast Guard station was but 2.9 miles away.

"We take Water Street onto Chapel, continue onto Dodge Street taking it to Ocean Avenue. Turn right onto Beach Street then left again onto Ocean Avenue, a left onto West Side Street and lastly a slight right onto Champlin Road."

"Don't tell me, you read a brochure?" Napoleon chuckled.

"Yes it was from a small travel agency located in the General Store called Margie's Travel. Her name was Henrietta and she seemed quite interested in telling me about the sights to be seen on the island. She was helpful with some directions as well. The people here are quite affable."

"Illya why don't you just lead the way and we'll follow?" Napoleon suggested with a wry smile. In actual fact he knew how to get to the station but decided just to let the Russian have his moment on this one.

Illya did exactly that, taking the lead with his beige moped, signalling with his arm when they others were to turn here or there.

"Left again on Ocean Avenue," Illya called out.

He pointed, indicating where to turn.

Despite the fact the mopeds had little power, more like the motor of a hair dryer, they could move fast enough, but not enough to suit the Aussie.

"I swear there's dogs walking faster than us," Kitt shouted.*

Still, he and Slate had a little fun with their bikes. More commonly used in Europe than the States, they were accustomed to them and the two raced each other...if you could call that. *

" _Ciao!"_ * Slate waved, laughing as he puttered past the others; ignoring the fact that Illya had just given him a dirty look.

Mark called out, "Mate you need to relax sometimes!"

The Russian pulled ahead on his moped, ignoring the kidding around; he signalled the final turn onto Champlin where they came to a slow stop, having arrived at their destination.

The Coast Guard station was a red-roofed two story white wooden house with a lookout tower, located at a waterfront site at New Harbor. Apparently it had been built around 1940 inside the entrance to Great Salt Pond.

Located at a waterfront site that had not even existed half-century earlier; the building was the culmination, beginning in the 1870s, of the Federal government's efforts to provide direct assistance to mariners in peril.

Napoleon was the first to enter, having gently knocked on the door. Sitting behind a desk was a ginger haired, freckle faced Ensign, who looked up at the dark haired agent.

"Hi there, my name is Napoleon Solo and I'm with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement." When he sensed no comprehension, he opted for the standard designation, while holding out his ID card."That's the U.N.C.L.E."

"Oh, yes sir. UNCLE sir, I have heard about it. It was mentioned in our training. What might I do to help you Mister…"

"Solo, Napoleon Solo, and these are my associates Mr. Kuryakin, Mr. Slate and Mr. Kittridge."

"Ensign Frank Pulver, sir," he introduced himself.

"Pulver?" Napoleon recalled a recent movie release by that name; a sequel to the Henry Fonda film 'Mister Roberts.'

"I know what you're thinking sir and I'm not inept like the Frank Pulver in those movies."

"I wasn't thinking that at all. Now I wonder if it would be at all possible to speak to your commanding officer, and please don't tell me his name is…?"

"Yes sir, I'm sorry to say it's Morton, but I assure you he's no Captain Bligh, like in the movies."

Napoleon shrugged as he smiled. "That's good to know, now is the Captain available?"

"I'll check sir. What may I ask the reason for your visit?"

Pulver took mental note these men were not wearing suits and were casually dressed in jeans, and polo shirts while wearing sunglasses and deck shoes, all looking the part of recreational boaters. Except for the man named Solo, he was dressed completely in white and a navy blue sweater, the sleeves of which were tied around his neck. He looked like the typical playboy types who invaded the island every summer.

"We're here to discuss the fish kill."

Pulver disappeared for a few minutes through an office door directly behind him. Giving Napoleon and the others a few minutes to take in the photographs on the walls, many of them from the turn of the century of masted ships.

The area around Block Island had been the site of numerous shipwrecks, including the Steamer _Larchmont_ in 1907. Illya pointed out an etching of the the 1738 wreck of the _Princess Augusta._

"Yes, "Napoleon said."It was also known as the Palatine ship and later immortalized by John Greenleaf Whittier in his 1867 poem, ' _The Wreck of the Palatine'_ , among whose verses the words, ' _Circled by waters that never freeze, Beaten by billow and swept by breeze, Lieth the island of Manisees_ , have become well-known. The Narragansett Indians were the first inhabitants of Block Island; their name for the island was 'Manisses' which translates to 'Island of the Little God.'

"And he called me a walking encyclopedia," Illya mumbled to the Brit, who snickered, but cleared his throat to hide it.

"Will you look here,"Mark segued without missing a beat,"two submarines sank off of the island, the USS S-51 in 1925, and the German U-boat U-853 in 1945. And a 19th-century shipwreck lies just south of the southeast lighthouse, its mast is submerged only four feet below the water's surface. Bet you wouldn't mind doing a bit of your diving to explore mate, " he said to the Russian. Slate knew Kuryakin had a penchant for diving around old wrecks. **

"Unfortunately that area remains closed off to passing boats," a man spoke from behind them. "Captain John Morton gentleman, I'm Chief of this station. Now what can I do to be of assistance to four UNCLE agents?"

Napoleon held up his ID card, offering his other hand to the Captain, who shook it vigorously."

"We're interested in any findings you have regarding this rather extreme fish kill the island is experiencing."

"Now there's a good question. It started about a month ago and has become progressively worse. An act of nature one could only assume, though I've never seen one of this intensity and lasting this long. It's pretty much brought the island to a standstill, economy wise. The tourists have all gone. The events scheduled for next week, the regatta and such are on the brink of cancellation. It'll be a major blow to say the least."

"Captain, have you noticed any odd goings on here since these fish kills started?" Illya asked.

"Odd, as in what sir?"

"Captain this is my partner Mr. Kuryakin and that is Mr. Slate, and lastly Mr. Kittridge, pardon my remiss at introducing them to you," Napoleon said.

"G'day mate," Kitt doffed an imaginary cap.

"People coming and going in perhaps a clandestine manner, people who are unfamiliar to you," Illya clarified himself.

"Well given we're a tourist destination we do see a lot of new faces I'm afraid. As to clandestine well, the only folks I can think of are the ones who've taken up residence in the old weather observatory. They've been creeping around along the beaches and we had to chase them off several times from Settler's Rock as the beach there isn't ideal for swimming on the ocean side, especially at the point, due to strong rip currents. On the other side, is Sachem Pond, fresh water and good for swimming but they seem not to be interested. I think they're doing some treasure hunting, for all the good it will do. They've been carrying shovels, buckets and what looks like a metal detector with them," Morton laughed. "Maybe they're hunting for Captain Kidd's hidden treasure."

That was the second time this was mentioned today, now piquing Kuryakin's curiosity. "I have heard this before," Illya asked."Are the stories true?"

"Oh I don't hold much store in them. There's stories of Captain Kidd's buried treasure up the coast from New Jersey, Long Island and around these parts. We've had the occasional hunter but not often. Treasure hunting isn't my concern gentlemen, we're a Search and Rescue Detachment. We perform water rescues and searches when a boat has gone down. We call for an aerial evacuation when there's a medical emergency out on the water. Anything else...the ever-waiting commercial towboats berth in New Harbor during summer months to head out when boaters get stuck on there." He pointed towards the ocean.

"And you have no concern about the fish kill?" Illya did a quick about face with his question.

"As I said sir, it's an act of nature, and something over which we have no control. Now if there's anything else?"

"No but thank you Captain Morton for your time," Napoleon said.

"By the way, you gentlemen here for the Regatta week?"

"We were,"Napoleon answered.

"Yes shame about that but with the conditions here driving everyone away, we'll probably have to cancel. Which believe it or not is a bit of a relief for us here at the station. Less boaters, less accidents...even though the competitors are experienced seamen for the most part; mishaps happen. Honestly it's a nice break for once for the island to be quiet, at least from our point of view."

"Now if you do go out on the water here's some words to send you on your way...

 _There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."_

"Ah yes, from _Wind in the Willows,_ if I am not mistaken," Illya nodded.

"You are not sir,"Captain Morton saluted them.

The four agents headed back to their mopeds.

"That fellow needs to get out more,"Mark said.

"Napoleon," Illya asked. "I would like to take some samples here if you do not mind?"

"Fine with me. After you're done with your stinky task I think we should head back to the Pursang."

"Making some additional stops along the shore for further samples?" Illya nodded.

"Fine, but let's clean up and get to the yacht club in time for dinner. Need I even ask if that sounds all right with you tovarisch?"

Illya rolled his eyes…

.

* a suggestion by **ssclassof56** \- from an Eddie Izzard skit: "European Vacation"

** ref. "By the sea, by the beautiful sea"


	4. Chapter 4

After indulging Kuryakin's scientific curiosity, and letting him gather fish and water samples from six different locations, they had one more stop before returning to the Napoleon's yacht.

Illya pulled his communicator, contacting the Rhode Island office requesting for a helicopter to come collect the samples. Shortly after the agents arrived at the airport on the way back from the Coast Guard Station, they were met by the chopper that took but twelve minutes to fly over from the mainland.

Block island was not only accessible by air, but by ferry year round from Point Judith on the coast of Narragansett, Rhode Island on the western side of Narragansett Bay. There it opened out onto Rhode Island Sound; in summer to New London, Connecticut; Montauk, New York; and Newport, Rhode Island. Still the traditional ferry took about an hour to reach the island from Point Judith. Having their little airport became a necessity, for more expeditious travel.

Illya approached the two man helicopter as it settled on the tarmac just behind the small terminal; his hair whipping wildly as the main rotor slowed its rotation.

He had a paper sack containing the specimens in his hand; each jar carefully labeled by him as to where they were collected along the coast.

Kuryakin stepped up on the landing strut and leaned in as the pilot waved to him. The noise from the engine was still loud, forcing Illya to raise his voice in order to be heard.

"I WANT A FULL ANALYSIS ON THESE SAMPLES. CHECKING FOR LEVELS OF BREVETOXINS AS WELL AS ANYTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY UNDERSTOOD?"

"GOT YOU MR. KURYAKIN. WILL NOTIFY YOU OF THE RESULTS IMMEDIATELY."

Illya tapped the pilot on the shoulder before stepping down and away from the aircraft. Ducking below the blades; he backed off and watched as the helicopter took off.

"Happy tovarisch?" Napoleon said.

"Immensely, thank you. _Now_ we can go eat."

"Not quite yet. We still need to clean up, and I don't know about you but I feel like I stink of dead fish, or is that you I smell Illya?"

The Russian clicked his tongue, admitting sheepishly that his partner was probably right. He'd trundled around on the shore line amongst the countless carcasses of dead fish, so he was a bit... _rank_ himself.

After heading back to the Pursang, the men freshened up and changed their clothing, all wearing jackets and ties as Napoleon told them they were required for dinner.

Their next destination was the Block Island Boating Club, located on the eastern side of the Great Salt Pond just about one mile North of town, so they basically headed back in the same direction from which they'd come. Since the island was so small it seemed immaterial.

Napoleon took the lead this time and they arrived within minutes, parking their mopeds in the lot outside the clubhouse that was situated right on the water's edge.

"I know where all dressed up,"Mark said, "but is this place posh right? I mean we're not going to be served creamed chipped beef on toast are we?"

"No Mark, not to worry,"Napoleon shivered, suddenly remembering ' _shit on a shingle'_ from his army days." I assure you the cuisine here will be fine."

"As long as it is not fish," Illya mumbled.

" _Too right_ mate,"Kitt agreed.

The two story building had a back deck that overlooked the pond, a small dock with a number of slips that were mostly empty.

They were met at the door, and though Napoleon wasn't known to the Sergeant at Arms, a brief introduction allowed them entrance as guests; given Solo's family history there.

They would have opted to eat on deck, as it was like a veranda with a spectacular view overlooking the Great Salt Pond. A surprisingly few yachts were anchored not far offshore, but even there the continuous odor of dead fish seemed inescapable.

At least with the club doors and windows closed and the air conditioning on, that helped to alleviate some of the stench, that and the copious number of freshly cut flowers that were strategically set in vases around the dining area.

A snappily dressed waiter approached the table.

"Good evening gentlemen, my name is Bernard. Might I interest you in cocktails this evening?"

"Yes, hello Bernard," Napoleon spoke up. "I'll have Hennessey on the rocks, and my friend here vodka straight up and the other gentlemen...

"No, make that a dirty martini with Stolichnaya vodka," Illya asked. He decided to go a bit more cosmopolitan.

"We have Absolut vodka sir."

"That will be fine," he nodded.

"Beer for me," said Mark.

"Ditto," Kitt added.

"Which kind gentlemen? Ballantine or Schaefer's?"

"How about two of each mate?" Kitt said, winking at Slate.

"Very good gentlemen." He handed them the menu cards, and the agents didn't waste time deciding on the steak and lobster tails, given Napoleon was paying; an offer he was probably going to regret.

What the heck, he figured they were doing him a favor by crewing for him, even though he had to blackmail his partner into coming along. Illya could have gotten out of it if he'd really tried. Even if the regatta was cancelled, it could still turn into a nice sailing trip, at least once they got away from all these dead fish.

The dinner and drinks were more than satisfying and the conversation light, with Slate and Kittridge throwing jokes back and forth at each other. They kept ordering beers while Kuryakin went a little easy on the drink refills so as to not bankrupt his partner, who'd probably want to borrow money from him anyway.

The more interesting thing was the conversations around them as they automatically eavesdropped on during dinner, listening to the complaints of the locals about the fish kill.

It was the consensus of opinion that this was the worst fish kill in the history of the island. A small pod of dolphins had been found in distress and had been taken away by a mainland Cetacean rescue group. They would most likely live as they'd been found in time.

"The test results on those dolphins; I would be very interested in hearing," Illya leaned over to his partner; whispering to him. "I will contact the Rhode Island office to look into it."

There were comments by several other diners about the low number of yachts anchored in the Pond; presupposing the regatta and subsequent July activities would all be cancelled.

After dinner Napoleon, Mark and Kitt helped themselves to cigars offered them by Bernard and they walked out to the deck to smoke them, enjoying an after dinner aperitif as well. The strong odor of the stogies helped mask the fishy smell.

Illya decided he'd had enough of the _eau de fish_ , and most certainly didn't relish the heady smell of cigars mixed with it. Rather than going back to the Pursang, he suggested booking rooms for them at the Spring Hill Hotel in town.

He wanted to not be in a bunk rocking to and fro in the harbor, breathing in that stench.

After nodding their agreement about the hotel rooms they said they'd meet him there later on. Apparently drinking was their game plan for the evening, but Illya was not in the mood for it.

He mused to himself, knowing that if he drank vodka, matching them shot for shot; he would drink them under the table, as Napoleon would say. Even if Solo competed with his Hennessy, Illya knew he could best him as well.

Arriving at the hotel, Kuryakin parked his moped and entered the spacious but quaint establishment.

White with red roofing like the Coast Guard station; it had a long porch that wrapped around the building, outfitted with very comfortable looking white lounge chairs that lined up in a row on the green grass, over looking over the water.

It gave the appearance of the perfect spot to relax. After registering Illya planned to do exactly that. He'd watch the sunset, and perhaps some of the comings and goings of the locals while he waited for the lab results, as long as the wind had shifted that is.

The interior of the hotel was a bit like stepping back in time with its darkwood furnishings, luxurious wool carpets and of antique trappings.

The desk clerk greeted him with a cheerful smile. She was blonde perhaps in her mid-twenties, pretty with blue-grey eyes and well tanned skin. Her name tag read ' _Madeleine.'_

"I would like a room for myself as well as to reserve three more for my friends who will arrive shortly. Do you have any available?"

He realized after asking that it was a silly question, given the tourists had all been chased off the island.

"If you're here for peace and quiet then normally I'd suggest a back or side room, as it's a bit noisy over the lounge, "she said.

"Normally?"

"Well as you can see we're not very busy given the problem…"

"Yes I am aware of the problem with the fish," he cut her off, finding the discussion of it somewhat tedious. He'd heard it all already. The topic though mildly interesting when he first heard it seemed to be the only one the locals were talking about ad nauseum, or so it seemed.

"Oh sorry. Guess you're tired of hearing about it huh?"

"I apologize for cutting you off, but yes it does seem to be the only thing people are going on about today and how it is affecting the economy here."

"That's for sure."

Illya in a rare moment turned on the charm and flirted with her. "And how long have you been working here my dear?"

"Oh since I was a teenager. I was born and raised on the island, though I went to the mainland to go to school. Majored in hospitality in college, since my family owns the hotel here. It's the oldest on the island."

"So I have heard," he leaned his elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his hand.

"Now Madeleine," he looked at her name tag again, though he already knew it but pretended he didn't.

"what would you recommend as far as my room is concerned?"

"Oh, number 12 that's a really nice one, good view and quiet. It was just renovated before the start of the season. Freshly painted and wall papered, a new bed and bedding as well."

"Excellent, and if you would please reserve the rooms for my friends as well? You will not have any difficulty recognizing them when they arrive as they will be the ones smelling of cigars, beer and scotch."

Madeleine giggled. "Sure, though I don't think they'll need to worry about getting a room. The hotel is pretty much empty," she sighed. "If you'd please sign our guestbook?"

He did so, and she turned it around to read his name."

"Illya Kuryakin? Did I say that correctly?"

"Very good, yes you did. Most people do mispronounce it."

"You're not from here...Russian I'd guess?" There was no suspicion or condescension in her voice, given the Cold War was still going strong between the United States and the U.S.S.R.

He gave her another nod of approval and a cover story, adding half lie to a bit of truth.

"My parent's were from Russia but escaped right before the war and I was raised in London. I am here to crew for my friend who was planning on racing in the regatta but sadly I think that will not happen."

"Don't want to sleep on a boat in the middle of all those dead fish huh? _And_ you left your luggage on the boat, right? "

"Correct on both counts _Madeleine_. You are quite observant."

"Not much else to do but people watch when you're stuck behind a desk all day. Say would you like a cup of coffee? I'm going to take a little break out on the porch; care to join me?"

"I would like that very much, thank you," he gave her one of his crooked smiles.

"Or would you prefer tea with a little raspberry jam?"

That surprised the canny Russian.

"Why yes? How did you know I would?"

"I had a roommate at college whose parents were Russian too, and she drank it that way. I kind of like it myself as I became accustomed to drinking it with her like that."

Illya again nodded; he was impressed.


	5. Chapter 5

Madeleine disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two steaming mugs of tea sweetened just right with raspberry jam, as promised.

Together she and Illya sat side by side on a bench swing, gently rocking to and fro as they sipped their tea and watched the sun go down.

The colors were spectacular as the bright pinks, yellows and purples faded slowly until there was nothing but a star-filled night sky; there was no moon, so they stood out quite clearly.

"This really is a beautiful place," Illya said. He was letting himself become caught up in the moment, and with the company.

His intention was to question the girl to see if she'd seen or heard anything odd but now he wondered if he should bother? Perhaps he and the others, well mostly he was being paranoid. This fish kill could be a fluke of nature but still his instincts kept at him, like a tingling of nerves beneath his skin. Or was it paranoia; that was a trait was common among UNCLE agents, and spies.

Yet a part of him told himself to just let himself relax for once and enjoy the company of a pretty girl...

"So Illya what do you do for a living, since you already know what I do?"

"I umm, work for an import-export company based in the Netherlands." That was his standard cover story, though he usually went by a Dutch name. He'd already registered using his real name, so that was that.

"Wow, you must do a lot of traveling?" She put down her mug and hugged herself, shivering for a second, as there was a cool breeze coming in off the water. The smell of the fish was ever present, but like everyone else, they were becoming accustomed to it and it became a distant memory.

"Are you chilly?"

"A little."

"May I?" He offered to put his arm around her shoulders.

She nodded without hesitation, feeling strangely comfortable with this man.

"Lean into me," he said."There is that better?"

Her hair had a hint of a delicate floral scent. Lavender? Whatever it was; he found it quite pleasant.

"Much better thank you," she answered. He was nice and warm and he smelled so manly. Madeleine couldn't remember the last time she'd been this close to a good looking guy.

The men here on the island were just so _ugh_ , none of them were very exciting. The smart ones left and never came back as they moved to the mainland. Maybe that's what she should have done?

No, she had a responsibility to the family business.

Mmm, he smelled so good…" She shook herself of the feeling. "So you didn't answer my question about traveling."

"Sorry, yes I have done a fair amount."

"What's your favorite country?"

He canted his head to the side in contemplation, pondering over his answer. No one had ever asked him that question before, nor had he ever taken the time to ask it of himself.

"That is hard to say. There things I like about many places; the cherry blossoms in Japan are magnificent, as are the many temples and shrines. In Italy...Rome specifically, the ruins of the Colosseum are spectacular, the people and the food are exciting, there is the Parthenon in Greece, the pyramids of Egypt are a testament to the ingenuity of mankind. Then there is the modern Eiffel Tower...I could go on. My favorite place, I must admit though, is New York City where I live. The sights, the sounds and the people there are invigorating."

"Wow, you've been to so many places. I've only been to Rhode Island, Long Island and New York City once."

"You seem to have been to ones that only are associated with islands, well Rhode Island has Aquidneck Island, which is also known as Rhode Island. The rest of the state however, though mostly the mainland, has lots of islands in it... Prudence Island, Hog Island, and of course your home, Block island. As I recall there are thirty of them in total. Long Island is self explanatory, and New York is located on the island of Manhattan."

"Do you always talk like an encyclopedia when you're sitting on a porch under a starry summer sky with a pretty girl?" She snuggled in closer, raising her face to his.

"Beg pardon, my mistake." He leaned over, taking the hint and kissed her, and she returned the embrace with equal enthusiasm.

When they came up for air Madeleine was the first to speak.

"Wow, that was really really nice."

"There is more where that came from, if you like," he whispered; his voice had become a bit husky.

"Mmmm, yes please?"

Just when he was about to kiss her again, he heard the loud voices of Kitt and Mark as they approached; the two going on about something.

"Sorry Madeleine but I must go. If they catch me with you I will be made to suffer their endless taunts. Good night," he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and took off inside.

He ducked behind the desk, grabbing the key to Room 12 and quickly headed up the stairs.

"Hello gentlemen," Madeleine greeted them loudly." Welcome to the Spring Hill Hotel. May I help you?"

"Yes, Miss. I believe our mate made res...vations," Kitt slurred, as he was plainly inebriated. "Aren't you a pretty _sheila."_

She rose from the bench with a smile, not missing a beat.

"You must be Mr. Kuryakin's friends. Come right this way please."

"Owd she know who we wuz?" Mark slurred as well, his accent becoming thicker.

Napoleon, who was as sober as a judge guided Slate and Kittridge into the lobby and to the desk where the blonde girl was now standing, holding a pen over the open guest book.

"Mr. Kuryakin said I'd recognize you by the smell of cigars, beer and scotch." She sniffed the air. "He was pretty much on the money there. I see you have your luggage from your boat."

"So you noticed, and very observant of you. I had a devil of a time getting my friends here on their mopeds, given their ummm, condition. I have Mr. Kuryakin's kit as well. Which room is he in?" Napoleon asked.

She looked at the guest book before answering.

"Mr. Solo you're in Room 11 right next door to your friend in Room 12. You Mister Slate…"

"Thasss me luv."

"You're in Room 9 and Mr. Kittridge you're in Room 10.

"Thanks Bub," Kitt said, taking his key from her." Say, you don't have too many ankle biters round here do ya darlin'?"

"That means children," Napoleon winked to Madeleine.

"Kitt, I don't think there'll be any children in your room. Now say goodnight to the night lady.

"G'night nice lady." Kitt gave her a little bow.

Madeleine laughed at their antics. "Mr. Solo could I give you some help with your bags."

"No thank you." He thought about saying something flirtatious but he needed to see to Mark and Kitt and not get involved with a woman right now, though she was quite pretty, squeaky clean was perhaps a more apt description. "You serve breakfast here, correct?"

"Why yes, breakfast is served from eight to ten in the main dining room. After eleven we have brunch until two, and then dinner is served at five. Would you care for a wakeup call?"

"That would be terrific, seven please for all of us, including Mr. Kuryakin?" He turned his attention back to Mark and Kitt. " Okay boys time for beddy bye."

She watched as they made their way up the stairs and then left a note for the night clerk for the wakeup calls to her cousin Martin, who'd be manning the desk until eight in the morning.

Madeleine decided she'd be visiting Room 12 once the coast was clear. If she'd gotten her signals right, Illya had made an offer to her and one she wanted to explore. He was a really good kisser.

Napoleon directed Slate and Kittridge to their rooms, opening the doors and letting them in; what they did after that was their problem. Illya being his partner was the only man he'd ever take the time to tuck in if he needed it.

He tossed his duffle bag in his room and headed to Illya's, lightly rapping on the the door with his coded knock.

The door opened and his partner appeared, still wearing his trousers and tee shirt, but everything else had been removed. He was holding his communicator.

" _I brought your bag_ ," Napoleon mouthed, holding up the worn green duffle.

His partner held up his index finger, telling him in essence to wait a second as a voice spoke from the communicator.

" _Mr. Kuryakin those samples you gave us showed absolutely no signs of_ _of brevetoxins in any of the fish samples nor indications of dinoflagellates in the water samples."_

"Really?" Illya felt a bit flummoxed. "Nothing at all?"

Napoleon tossed the duffel on what looked like a day bed along the wall and sat on the edge of Illya's comfy looking sleigh bed.

" _No sir, however…"_

Illya's demeanor changed with that one word, gaining his full attention as well as Solo's.

" _The samples did contain something unusual, like nothing we've seen before. It's a toxic mix of very potent chemicals, actually too long a list to go over sir. You said these fish kills have been happening over a prolonged period of time, correct sir?"_

"That is what the locals have said. Why?"

" _These chemicals are extremely potent but they lose that potency very quickly. For them to affect the fish in the vicinity and no where else, and for that amount of time, that means they've had to have been dumped in the water in concentrated amounts there on a regular basis. Once they become harmless, they simply dissipate and are carried away in the current."_

"Are there any chemical plants on the mainland that deal with these sort of chemicals in the combinations of which you spoke?"

" _No sir, not that we've found so far. Though they are common enough and sold individually by a number of companies."_

"Solo here," Napoleon joined the conversation." I'd like you to investigate any sales of those chemicals in the area, substantial amounts that is."

" _Yes sir, on it right away. Out."_

Illya put away his communicator." So I heard Mark and Kitt in the hallway; sounded like they were feeling no pain."

"Let's say they enjoyed themselves, "Napoleon nodded. "I have a wakeup call for us at seven. We can discuss our next move over breakfast."

"That sounds like a plan in and of itself," the Russian nodded. "Now if you do not mind, I would like to get some sleep. I think we will have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"I think you're right. Good night tovarisch. Sleep tight."

"And you my friend."

Illya locked the door behind him and picked up his bag, pulling out his pajama bottoms, then thought otherwise.

He slipped out of his pants and underwear, deciding to sleep in the nude for once. It was rare that he had a hotel room to himself. Not that he was shy about being naked in his partner's presence, but quite often the two of them while on assignment had to share a bed, and well, wearing pajamas seemed more appropriate. Napoleon felt the same way.

There was an unexpected knock at the door, and Illya quickly wrapped a white bath towel around his waist.

"Who is it?" He grabbed his gun from atop the dresser, standing to the side of the door.

"Room service."

"I did not order room service," he hesitated, recognizing the voice."Madeleine?" He checked the peephole verifying it was her and that she was alone.

"Illya could I come in?"

He suddenly recalled his flirtations with her and guessed... no, hoped she was perhaps taking him up on his offer.

"Just a second." He tucked his Special under another towel on the dresser.

He unlocked the door, looking at her for a moment until he realized she was giving him the once over in his state of undress.

"You will have to excuse me, I was not expecting company."

Madeleine 's heart sank with disappointment and embarrassment, thinking she'd misread his signals.

"Oh I'm so sorry. I misunderstood." She took a step back; her face turning pink.

"No you did not, please come." He reached out, gently taking her by the hand and once she was inside he locked the door behind her.

"Is this what you really want?" Illya drew her close to him.

"Mmmmm, yes please?"

He let the towel fall to the floor… 

**Translations:**

Sheila- girl

Bub- usually refers to a baby, but can be used to address a person

Ankle biters- children


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning the phone rang but Illya was already awake. Madeleine was lying in bed beside him, cuddled up to his side.

"Hello?" He quickly picked up the receiver and answered.

"Good morning sir, this is your 7 o'clock wake up call."

"Umm, thank you." Illya hung up, not remembering he'd ordered such a call.

He looked to his bedmate as her eyes opened and she lazily stretched. They'd spent a good part of the night engaged in passionate love making but had finally fallen to sleep when they were completely sated. Both were tired but it was a good sort of tired.

"That was a wake up call your friend Mr. Solo ordered and my cue to go," she whispered." She climbed out of bed, grabbing her clothing and started to dress. Illya slipped into his pajama bottoms and saw her to the door.

As she stepped into the hall, he pulled her back towards himself one last time and kissed her. "Thank you for a lovely night," he whispered.

"Same to you," she whispered too, before hurrying down the hallway.

Napoleon had opened his door, planning to go check on Mark and Kitt when he witnessed the scene between his partner and the cute desk clerk from last night.

"You sly devil," he whispered; waiting until Illya had closed his door.

In truth he felt a twinge of jealousy; for some reason it always bugged him just a little when Illya 'got the girl'.  
It wasn't often that Napoleon lost out to his partner especially since Illya didn't sleep around, that was the truth of the matter. He suddenly felt guilty for begrudging the man a rare moment of enjoyment.

Napoleon told himself to just get over it. After all, Illya was his best friend.

A half hour later, the four agents were showered and ready to start their day. They met up in the hall and headed down to the dining room for their breakfast. Slate and Kittridge were both quiet and looks a little bit under the weather.

"Hangovers gentleman?"Solo asked as they were seated.

Mark and Kitt looked at him like he had two heads.

"I'm an Aussie and he's a Brit; we blokes know how to drink and don't get hung over," Kitt answered defensively.

"Speak for yourself mate, "Mark rubbed his temples with his fingers. "You were completely arseholed last night and so was I."

"Maybe a bit of the hair of the dog then?" Kitt winked.

"No thank you," Mark mumbled.

The waitress arrived and poured their coffees.

"Tea please?" Illya asked, covering his cup with his hand."And raspberry jam as well." The waitress smiled as she was familiar with Maddy taking her tea that way.

"So tovarisch, how did you sleep last night?" Napoleon asked, not letting on what he knew.

"I slept like a baby. I must say this hotel is _exceptional_ with its service."

" _Really?"_ Napoleon said. "No...umm, nightmares?" That he leaned over and whispered.

"No Bloody Mary's gentlemen?" The waitress asked. She saw the red eyes of Slate and Kittridge and made an educated guess.

"On second thought I'll have one, extra horseradish, " Kitt asked.

"Make mine a double," Slate added."And could I have a couple of aspirins with that luv?"

"Sure," she smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Anyone else need aspirin?"

Kitt sheepishly raised his hand.

"Yes, _really and nothing else,"_ Illya finally answered Napoleon's ' _Really?'_ Illya was prone to nightmares at times, memories of his childhood, though he refused to speak about the details to his partner. He didn't have the dreams all the time, but enough for Napoleon to be aware of them.

The Russian got up from the table after the waitress had taken their beverage orders and headed to the sumptuous buffet table, followed by the others.

Mark was setting up his plate, making a few comments about the quality of the food being offered.

"Cor, will you look at that? Beans on toast. Now that's something I've only seen back home in Great Britain."

Napoleon chuckled. "It's also popular in New England. You've heard of Boston baked beads haven't you?"

"Sure guv, but I never heard the likes of it here. Mind you, it's fine by me."

Illya was now behind Slate in line as Mark had moved on. He was piling on the scrambled eggs, bacon, a couple of sausage links as wells as a slice of ham from the carving station. In his other hand was a plate full of home fries and cantaloupe slices.

Napoleon was right behind him. "You know you can come back for seconds; it is a buffet."

"I know and I plan to do that when I have finished this."

"So going to fess up about last night tovarisch?" Napoleon leaned in, again whispering to him.

"What about it?" Illya eyed him suspiciously.

"You had some nocturnal maneuvers from what I saw this morning."

Kuryakin turned, wide-eyed. "And what exactly did you see?"

His face looked childlike and anyone else would have sworn he was as innocent and pure as new fallen snow, but not to Napoleon; he knew better.

"You and Miss Blonde Desk Clerk; she was leaving your room this morning and the two of you were in a pretty serious lip lock."

"And what of it?" Illya's voice was calm and collected.

"Ugh, yes well. I just thought I'd mention it."

"Napoleon you are my best friend, but what I say to you now is with the best of intentions that I can muster. What I do or do not do when it comes to women is none of your fucking business. So the discussion of what happened between me and Madeleine is now at an end. As you like to say in Italian... _capisce?_

" _Sì. Capisco,_ and duly noted." Napoleon took his partner's chastisement in stride. Illya was a private person when it came to his periodic liaisons. In fact it was rare that Illya slept with a woman on the spur of the moment, as far as Solo knew.

Napoleon was used to being cock of the walk when it came to women. That was his style not the Russian's.

Once all four men were settled at their table with their breakfast, Illya filled in Mark and Kitt on the results from the lab. There were few guests in the dining room so the agents were free to discuss the situation, as long as they did so with hushed voices.

"Something is definitely afoot," he concluded." Now for what reason; that is the next thing to be discovered along with who is responsible."

"Shouldn't we contact Mr. Waverly?" Mark asked.

"For the moment, no," Napoleon said."It's my call. For now let's see where this whole thing is going. We can read Waverly in once we've found out a little more."

"What's the gameplan?" Kitt asked.

"We're waiting for another report on the sale of the chemicals involved. Hopefully we'll get names and we can take it from there."

"At least the local constabulary had the forethought to close the beaches," Mark said. "Still even if they hadn't I doubt anyone would want to go swimming with the fishes."

"Very funny Mark,"Napoleon smiled.

"What? I wasn't joking."

Illya leaned towards him, lowering his voice.

"It is an American idiom. If someone is swimming with the fishes, they are dead, especially if they have been murdered. 'Sleeping with the fishes' is an alternative form."

"Finally getting what an idiom is tovarisch?" Napoleon snickered.

"I know what they are by definition, yet some of the ones you come up with are still somewhat confusing to me."

"Right and I'm the son of the Pope Illya."

"See now that makes no sense to me as I know your father is Darius Solo...and there is no Pope Illya." This time the Russian was indeed yanking Solo's chain.

"Kuryakin, sometimes you are an insufferable pain in my rear end."

"Why thank you Napoleon. I take that as a compliment.

They finished their breakfast and all of them, except Illya, headed back upstairs to their rooms.

He chose to wander to the desk as Madeleine was now there, looking refreshed and pretty as ever in a pale pink dress.

"Good Morning Mr. Kuryakin," she smiled. "Did you sleep well, and how was breakfast this morning? "

"My evening was glorious as was the food, thank you. Might I entice you to have a cup of tea with me in the dining room?"

"I think so, my cousin Melinda here can hold down the fort for a few minutes, can't you Melin?"

Her cousin from Staten Island was a pretty dark haired girl, sitting behind the desk while snapping her chewing gum.

"Yeah shew-ah Maddy. It's not like people are breakin' down the doors to get in."

"Thanks, I won't be long."

Illya offered Madeleine his arm, escorting her to a table where they seated themselves. The waitress after being asked, brought over tea, fixing just the way they both liked it. She didn't miss a thing...including the glances Maddy and the good looking blond were giving each other.

"So Illya, I heard the regatta has been cancelled. That means you'll be leaving soon won't you?" Madeleine said.

"Not quite yet. My friends and I will be staying for a few more days." He hesitated. "We are trying to investigate this situation with the fish kill, which I have just found out is not exactly what is seems to be."

"You don't really work for an import-export company do you?"

"No not really." He pulled his ID card and showed it to her.

"U.N.C.L.E...whose, yours?"

"Not a who but a what. It stands for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. We are an organization responsible for maintaining political and legal order throughout the world. We are international in our scope. We try to protect and defend nations regardless of size or political persuasion. There are people out in the world who come up with bizarre plans to disrupt the status quo and create chaos, by any means necessary. My job as well as Mr. Solo's and the others is to stop them."

"Wow, so you're some sort of international cop."

"Mmmm, yes for lack of a better term. Madeleine, I need your help?"

"Me? Why would you need my help if you're this big international muckety muck cop," her voice sounded agitated. "Did you really go to all those places or were you still lying to me? Do you just lie to innocent women and screw them for the fun of it? Sure, let's slum and fuck the local yokel!" She practically hissed at him.

"Madeleine, please do not be upset. I had to tell you a cover story. It is necessary in my line of work, and what happened between us last night was genuine. I do not go around doing such things willy nilly."

" _Willy nilly?"_ She suddenly found that funny and it calmed her down enough to make her laugh.

"I am not trying to be funny. I am telling you the truth about last night and about the fact that I need your help if we are to solve what is going on here with your home."

"You _are_ serious aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

"All right, what can I do to help?" She sat up straight, squaring her shoulders, as she brushed back her hair.

He told her about the chemicals being introduced into the waters around the island and asked her if she'd seen anyone doing anything strange down near the shoreline."

"Holy cow, chemicals being dumped into the water are killing all the fish?"

"Yes, but for what purpose we do not know. Now think Madeleine, do you recall anything suspicious since this all started?"

"Well when I was down in Old Harbor I do remember seeing a bunch of old oil drums being loaded onto one of the boats."

"Do you recall which boat it was?"

She thought for a minute, trying to remember.

"No I'm sorry I don't. I wasn't really paying attention Illya."

"And this from a woman who prides herself on being observant?"

"Excuse me?" She feigned being offended. "Just let me think some more."

"Take your time, I am in no hurry. Did anyone ever tell you your nose crinkles in the cutest way when you are annoyed?" He'd learned enough from observing Napoleon when to pull the right strings with a woman.

Madeleine took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, trying to envision what she saw at least a month ago.

"It-was-one-of the towboats the Coast Guard uses. Dark blue with the ...no wait, none of them have numbers. They go by names on the aft along with the hailing port. The Coast Guard doesn't require them to display their official numbers on the outside of the hull. Sorry Illya I didn't see the name."

"That's all right. You did well. Thank you, that at least gives us something to go on until I hear further from my organization." He leaned over, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Will I see you tonight?" She'd decided his sleeping with her was genuine and now she wanted him to make love to her again.

"I do not know."

"Oh…"

He could see the disappointment in her eyes and reached out, caressing her cheek. "I will try, but I can not promise."

He rose from his chair, spotting his partner waiting for him in the lobby.

"I have some information that might be useful to us," Illya said, just as Slate and Kittridge joined them.

"From your little friend?"Napoleon whispered.

"If you must know; yes. She recalled around the time that all this fish business started that one of the towboats in Old Harbor was being loaded with some old oil drums. It may be nothing, and simply one of the boatmen doing some light hauling for extra money, but then it may not."

"Well it's a start. I know you won't want to but I think taking the Pursang out will be an easier way to check out all the towboats as they're not all berthed in Old Harbor."

"Whatever you say Napoleon. You're the boss...er Captain," Mark and Kitt chimed in. Illya on the other hand shrugged his resignation.

"So who's your little friend _Illya?"_ Mark was ready to give him a bit of guff. "Did you have a bit of the _rumpy pumpy_ with her last night?"

"To use your vernacular... _sod off!_ " He turned to the Brit, giving him one of his cold blue-eyed Russian stares, and that did it.

"Sorry mate, no harm intended. I was just trying to take the piss out of you, that's all."

Illya walked out the door ahead of the others.

"Mark, and you too Kitt just leave him be. Illya's a private man and feels it's... _ungentlemanly_ to discuss his, well I think you know."

Napoleon realized that now; he promised himself to do the same and give Illya his space when it came to personal matters. He'd say nothing unless his partner broached the subject.

.

.

 **Translations:**

 _Capisce: understand?_

 _Sì. Capisco: Yes. I understand_

 _arseholed- drunk_

 _rumpy pumpy- sex_

 _guff- verbal abuse_

 _sod off- Screw off, get lost, go away, shut up, stop bothering/talking to me._

 _taking the piss out of you: teasing_


	7. Chapter 7

As the four agents walked out to the green lawn in front of the hotel they were again accosted with the stench of dead fish, perhaps stronger than they'd smelled up to this point.

Mark pointed down to the water. "Good Lord will you look at that?"

The waves were washing up thousands of dead fish of every kind, there among them was the carcass of a small shark and even a young sea lion." It wasn't a pretty sight seeing flocks of seaguls picking at the remains. The gulls had been having a field day all up and down the coast, to say the least.

"This is getting out of hand," Napoleon said. "Come on, let's get to the boat and see what we can find out."

They got to their mopeds and headed over to the harbor, though it was close enough that they made it in no time at all. Still there was no time to waste as things were definitely getting worse.

They readied the Pursang and once the lines were cast off, Napoleon motored her out of the slip, surrounded by the fish intention was to move slowly past the towboats moored here to see if they could spot anything like Madeleine had described to Illya.

"Here," Illya said," rub his on your skin. It will help with the stench." He offered a small vial to the others.

"What is it?" Napoleon asked.

"It is oil of wintergreen, rub it on your skin."

"Pure oil of wintergreen, mate?" Mark asked." Isn't that sort of toxic?"

"It has been safely diluted with coconut oil and is quite safe. I made it in my lab, to use for muscular pain."

"You must keep a pretty big supply on hand," Kitt chuckled.

"So that's what I smell on you sometimes," Solo laughed as well, "and here I thought it was an aftershave."

As they continued to motor along, they found nothing that met the description. There was nothing. The boats here were anything but dark blue...grey, green, white and one powder blue. None of them were carrying oil drums, or any discernable cargo for that matter.

Solo decided to pull aside one of the towboats, O'Toole's Folly it was called; its port of call was Montauk, Long Island."

"Morning," Solo called to a man standing on deck."You the Captian?"

"I am that, and who wants to know?"

"Name's Solo, my boat's the Pursang out of Long Island. We were here to race but...well you know the story."

"Yeah, that's a shame. It'll mean no business for me unless some fool like yourself decides to get stuck out on the water."

"A fool I am not Skipper... been sailing all my life on Long Island Sound and the Atlantic. Could you tell me, is there a towboat here, dark blue, been doing some light hauling of say, oil drums?"

"Hauling oil drums? Not a bad idea to do some light hauling, helps pay the cost of fuel and other bills. But I ain't seen anything like that, then again I just got here a few days ago. Came for the Regatta week, but now I'll be heading home, see if I can find some business there."

"Thanks Skipper. Fair weather to you."

"And to you to Solo," the man waved as the Pursang motored away.

They continued up along the coast, stopping at various points along the southern coast of the island. The anchored off Black Rock Point to take a break and eat some lunch. With their frequent stops, and moving under motor instead of by sail, it was taking longer to circumvent the island.

Napoleon looked out at the beach with his binoculars, shaking his head at the continued desolation of such a lovely island.

Black Rock Beach, below Mohegan Bluffs near the Southeast Lighthouse should have been filled with sun worshipers this time of year. He'd even heard tell of some nude sunbathing going on there, but now the beach was empty.

The surf there could run a bit high, so he anchored out a little farther, which freed them from most of the fish that covered the coast, drifting with the currents and inland.

There were only seagulls, terns and other birds flying everywhere; landing and picking at the fish that had washed up, covering the sand.

Illya came up from the galley, carrying a tray of sandwiches he'd made as the galley was still fully stocked with cold cuts and bread. They opted not to eat any of the salads, and those were left in the small refrigerator below.

Though the Pursang was farther away from the dead fish and, the men had become pretty oblivious to the smell that still wafted on the breeze thanks to the wintergreen; except when they bit into their sandwiches

Everything tasted like fish. At this point it didn't matter, it was three in the afternoon and they were all hungry.

Napoleon wanted to make it round to New Harbor in the Great Salt Pond, and if they didn't find anything there, they'd at least stop at the Coast Guard station on the way back out and speak to Captain Morton about their findings. Perhaps they could spare some time and help search for this mysterious boat...after all, searching is what they did.

Once leaving the Pond, they'd head up to Sandy Point and the North Lighthouse, after that they'd hug the coast in Rhode Island Sound, heading back down to their starting point in Old Harbor. By then they'd hoped to find that boat or at least some answers.

It was a mere 22 miles including the foray in the the Pond. Still it wasn't for fun, it was a search and a tedious one at that.

Just as they were getting ready to get underway, the water became a bit rough as the wind had changed.

"Time to batten down the hatches boys, I think we're in for a bit of a blow," Napoleon said.

"Not yet, the sky is not indicating a storm, though the winds have definitely changed. Later today I think a storm will arrive," Illya said, before he disappeared below deck, looking a little green. "The gulls are heading inland though, and that is a sure sign the storm is coming."

Napoleon looked to the skies. When on the water he'd gotten pretty good at figuring out the weather but when it came to predicting it the Russian had an uncanny and fairly accurate knack for doing so. It was something Illya said he'd learned from his paternal grandmother whom he called his Babushka.

As Illya climbed back up to the deck, he held his stomach. The rumblings were beginning even though he'd taken his dramamine hours ago; perhaps its potency was wearing off? It wasn't helping that he'd had a liverwurst, coleslaw and onion sandwich for lunch.

Despite his nausea he help the others lash down everything in preparation for the storm.

Napoleon maintained the helm deciding it would be better to motor along the coast than to unfurl the sails. If he did that he'd have a battle fighting the winds in order to keep the Pursang right.

Nearly forty five minutes later the waters were becoming too rough, forcing Napoleon to seek shelter. He moved in a little closer to the shore off Barlow's Point, with a view of the cliffs called Rodman's Hollow. It was the site of a an undeveloped glacial outwash basin on southwest part of the island. There were nature walks and things of that sort, but it was basically undisturbed, and a perfect place for anyone who wanted to commune with the flora and fauna.

Mark pulled out yellow rain slickers from a locker in the bench in the aft of the yacht. There were life jackets there as well, and each of them put those on as well just to be on the safe side.

"You promised me when we started this trip, we would not sink," Illya shouted over the wind.

"And we won't tovarisch. We're anchored down and ready for a gale. Make sure everything in the galley is locked down; we don't need any flying dishes or cutlery."

"And you my friend?" I'll be down shortly. I just want to make sure everything is shipshape above deck."

The others went below as Napoleon assured them he wouldn't be long; though they were helpful, he still felt more comfortable double checking everything they'd done was secure.

Block Island was essentially situated in open ocean and subject to potentially big ocean swells, strong currents and rapidly changing conditions.

Conditions could range from quite mild to very, very challenging. Even on a calm day, waves could often come out of nowhere and slam a boat, especially if it were in the wrong place at the wrong time and those aboard weren't paying attention.

Napoleon knew what he was doing and his word to Illya about not sinking would be kept...at least he hope it would. He'd once told his partner he was afraid of being in the water having almost drowned as a child, and he crossed his fingers, calling on his Solo luck for everything to be fine.

Sailing helped him fight his fear, and he found it completely liberating to be out on his boat. Yes there was always the potential for it to founder or sink, but he forced himself not to think of that. He wasn't going to let his fear conquer him.

As Illya had predicted, the storm finally hit; sending down a torrent of wind driven rain. It was lashing Solo across the face and once he was satisfied with everything, he finally went down below, closing the cabin door behind himself and securing it.

"Hang on boys it's going to get a bit rough." He'd turned the wheel all the way to the windward side, locking it and the tiller was lashed in place, essentially putting the Pursang in park.

The boat was already changing attitude with the pounding of the waves lessening as it slowly moved and drifted to a more smooth and comfortable ride at about 45˚ off the wind.

Still, he was sure it wasn't going to be exactly a comfy ride for his partner, know his propensity to being seasick.

The motion down below was constant, rocking to and fro in the heavy waves but Napoleon was confident she'd ride out whatever Mother Nature was going to throw at them.

It finally got to the Russian and he ducked into the head to vomit, out of the view of his companions.

After emptying his stomach he had the dry heaves for a few minutes. The only thing left he could bring up was stomach bile, and he did so.

Finally Illya emerged, looking like death warmed over, and he collapsed on one of the bunks with a moan.

"I swear this is worse than THRUSH torture."

"Here mate,"Kitt said,"have a beer. Always works for me."

"Are you out of your mind?" Illya moaned. "Napoleon you will pay dearly for shanghaiing me, blackmail or not!" He rolled over on the bunk, curling up into a ball.

The noise of the waves and the wind driven rain were loud, but not enough for Napoleon to hear the chirping of his communicator.

"Solo here."

"Yes. What is your status?" It was Mr. Waverly.

"In my yacht riding out a storm off Block Island sir. Why may I ask?"

"It has come to my attention that some of my agents, while on holiday, have been making inquiries and use of the lab facilities in our Rhode Island office. Would you care to elaborate Mr. Solo?"


	8. Chapter 8

Napoleon found himself squirming as he did a quick update for the Old Man; in the end he was expecting a verbal reprimand for not having informed his boss of their suspicions.

Solo was senior agent, and was his responsibility to keep Mr. Waverly abreast of things, he supposed even if it wasn't involving an assignment. One never knew when THRUSH or some other nefarious entity was up to no good as could be the case here.

Checking in, though still being on a short vacation, was the right thing to have done, but Napoleon didn't always go by the book; something that often irked Waverly. He could hear the exasperation in the Old Man's voice.

"If you had bothered to consult me I would have told you that there were already suspicions of the events taking place at Block Island."

"You knew about this sir?"

Waverly cleared his throat. "Ahem, yes I did."

"And you knew I was going with Messrs. Kuryakin, Slate and Kittridge to said island with, shall I call it...a pre-existing condition?"

"I understand what you are alluding to young man, and I do apologize for my miscalculation at informing you before hand."

Napoleon hesitated."So am I to consider this an official assignment at this point?"

"Yes Mr. Solo. It is our suspicion that T.H.R.U.S.H. is as usual, up to no good."

"Well the tourists have been driven off but the locals haven't."

"Another concern indeed. What might they do next to drive off the local population? Keep me informed of your findings." Waverly out." The communicator went quiet.

"Sure, thanks a lot boss for the heads up," Napoleon grumbled. Sometimes the Old Man's abruptness could be annoying and frustrating. At this moment that's what Solo was feeling.

"Well the good news is we won't lose our vacay days mate," Kitt slapped his knee.

"Whoopee," Mark snickered.

Forty minutes or so later the Pursang stopped its wild rocking as the storm finally ended.

They went up on deck, surveying the water. It looked like a lot of the dead fish had been washed away, though there were still remnants of them on the beach. Maybe this storm was what the island needed to recoup.

Illya was the last on deck, stretching and sipping a can of ginger ale. He'd popped a ginger tablet just in case to hopefully settle his stomach, along with a Dramamine tablet as well, though he'd run out of the non-drowsy formula. It wouldn't have been worth it while he'd been getting sick as he just would have vomited it down the head with the contents of his stomach.

"How you feeling tovarisch?"

Kuryakin took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before answering.

"Truthfully, _the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."_

"I'm going to go underway by sail so we should get to the Coast Guard Station faster; we have a nice tail wind thanks to the storm, once we round Dicken's Point."

"Be still my heart,"Illya said. He moved slowly but helped raise the sails and the Pursang finally took off across the waves.

Napoleon's communicator came to life again; he had Mark take over the helm and sat down beside his partner on the aft bench.

"Solo here."

" _Yes sir, this is Ronald Blackstone, Rhode Island office. I have the information you requested. There's one name that comes up, an Eddie Thompson. He's recently made purchases of large amounts of the chemicals on our list at a number of different companies up and down the East coast."_

"Background on him?"

" _Nothing sir. No criminal record, no criminal associations, including THRUSH. He quit his job a year ago as a librarian in Jersey City. There's nothing remarkable about him at all in his education or upbringing. A head scratcher for sure."_

"You can say that again Ron, thank you. Oh and please forward your findings to Mr. Waverly on my behalf."

"Yes sir Mr. Solo, right away. Out."

"You heard Illya?"

Kuryakin nodded. "Perhaps when we make it to the Coast Guard Station we should contact the local police to see if they have heard of this Eddie Thompson? Could he now be a resident, or a transient involved with this mysterious towboat we are trying to trackdown? Still this Eddie Thompson is not familiar to me among our feathered friends, but perhaps he is a new addition to the flock."

"You've just said a mouthful partner." Napoleon stretched.

He noticed Illya's eyelids were beginning to droop.

"Not meaning to get personal but your evening with Madeleine and now your bout with seasickness seem to have drained your energy reserves. There's nothing you can do up here. Why don't you go below and get some shuteye. I'll wake you when we get to the Station."

"No argument for once my friend. I will be truthful, I did enjoy the evening with the girl and she is looking for my company again, but I am questioning the wisdom of my decision in sleeping with her; I do not wish for her to form any attachments to me."

"Illya take it from me, never pass up a good thing when it comes to a pretty woman. In our line of work, we never know when we could...well you know."

"Hmm, you are beginning to sound like me, a bit fatalistic." He yawned as the motion sickness pill was finally working on its magic him.

"I think I will take your advice my friend."

"Sleep well tovarisch."

Illya didn't respond and shuffled off, heading below. He practically dropped onto the bunk, and again curled up; falling into a deep sleep.

 _He was in the desert, yet everything was moving? Was he riding a camel...they were after all, called the ships of the desert._

 _Suddenly he was lying down in bed with Madeleine beside him; her fingers dance across his naked chest. He rolled over on top of her and made love to her; their bodies moving together as he kept whispering to her that he had to go._

" _I must leave Madeleine. I am sorry I can not stay with you."_

 _Still they continued to make love and he moaned as their passion rose to a crescendo._

"Illya?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Wake up, we're here."

Kuryakin's eyes popped open, though his head was still filled with what he'd dreamt.

"So soon?"

"Afraid so. You were having a pretty good dream for once from the sound of it, quite a bit of moaning and groaning. And look, you're not waking up in a cold sweat. You should have more dreams like it from now on...whatever it was about."

Napoleon didn't expect an explanation and his partner being true to form wasn't forthcoming with one.

"Indeed," Illya sat up, being pulled to his feet by the helping hand of his friend.

"Made you some tea, replete with raspberry jam of course." Napoleon pointed to a mug set on the table.

"But I must help you ready the boat to dock."

"Already done. You slept right through it. Relax for a minute, finish your tea and then we'll go see Captain Morton about Thompson and our mystery boat."

The Pursang had been moored to a long dock that jutted out into the water. While Mark and Kitt remained onboard the Pursang, Napoleon and Illya hoofed it over to the station.

Moored a little farther down along the water's edge were the station's larger watercraft, two fair sized Utility Boats. They were a general purpose craft used for nearly all the Coast Guard for the search and rescue missions Captain Morton had spoken of only yesterday.

The USCG employed only small arms such as handguns, shotguns, rifles, and machine guns for a station such as this. They did not serve a military function like the larger Coast Guard cutters that patrolled farther out to sea within the US coastal limits.

Sitting inside a garage in front of a fenced off ramp leading to the water were two 7-foot motor boats. They were primarily heavy weather boats used for search and rescue as well.

The agents walked into the station, greeted again by Pulver.

"Welcome back Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin; didn't expect to see you back here so soon. Is this a business or social call...sorry I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Surely it's business."

"Yes it is," Napoleon said." We've got some new information regarding the fishkill problem and would like to ask Captain Morton some further questions."

"I'll have to call him sir, he's at his home. Not far sir, it's the the brick house right here by the channel.

"Please do,"Illya said.

The phone conversation between Morton and Solo was brief, and not very very lucrative. The Captain was completely surprised about the chemicals being dumped in their waters. He knew of no such boat towboat by the description given. The fact the Harbormaster at the Old Harbor wasn't familiar with it either meant it was most likely a transient. Some did come for the regatta as well as in doing hauling jobs as suggested, but dropping off and rarely hauling out.

As far as Eddie Thompson was concerned, he said they had a lot of outsiders pop up for Regatta week and there simply wasn't enough manpower or a necessity for that matter to check up on them.

The name meant nothing to him and didn't ring a bell as a local, but Morton offered to make a quick call to check with their small police department to see if they knew the name.

That at least was helpful and the agents waited there with Pulver for the call back.

"How many men are stationed here," Illya asked."Just curious."

"There's fifteen of us sir, we rotate shifts. We're not as big as the station at Judith Point."

The phone rang, with Pulver offering the receiver to Napoleon.

"Sorry Mr. Solo, the police aren't familiar with anyone named Eddie Thompson. He's definitely not a local. If he was here, it might have been as a tourist but they're all pretty much gone now. I will however, be contacting our station at Station Point Judith regarding the possible dumping of chemicals in our waters. I'm going to request extra patrol boats to see if we can catch whoever's doing it."

"Thank you sir, that will be of immense help."

"My pleasure Mr. Solo. Oh, where are you staying on the island incase I have any news for you? I presume you're not staying on your boat."

"Correct sir. We are at Spring House."

"Great choice. That Madeleine is quite a smart cookie, and a real looker if I don't mind saying so myself. If I weren't a married man, I'd ask be after her in the blind of an eye.

Someone like her doesn't belong in a place like Block Island, not that there's anything wrong with the place. I'd like to retire here myself someday. It's just that someone like her should be out seeing the world. Well anyway, good luck with your investigation."

"Sure thing, goodbye," Napoleon handed over the receiver to Pulver who was lost in thought.

"Gee Mr. Solo do you think this Thompson fellow has really had something to do with this fish mess?"

"Doug, your guess is as good as mine right now."

Napoleon and Illya returned to the yacht and not long after, they cast off. They did a turn around the Pond, and then headed back out to finish their circumnavigation of the island, sailing North.

Kuryakin was feeling fine now as the waters were a bit calmer and the Dramamine had kicked in, but as a precaution he continued to drink ginger ale. The others laid off the beer, as they were now officially on duty so other than a nightcap tonight, there'd be no more serious drinking.

Sandy point and the North Lighthouse, past Settler's Rock. There they spotted those same men with their buckets and shovels Captain Morton had mentioned. There was no boat in sight and like Morton, they assumed the men were still treasure hunting. Considering there were still so many dead fish around it was amazing anyone could handle being their along the shore line.

Napoleon remained at the helm, guiding the Pursang along in the strong currents there. He decided it was safer to stay at the wheel given the waters were tricky off the north of the island. He'd be able to take them back to their slip at the Old Harbor. It would have been a nice sail except for the current circumstances.a

Their foray out onto the water had proven to be a waste of time in the long run, as they mystery towboat was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know about you mates, but this has been a long day," Kitt said. "I'm ready for some tucker and then bed."

Napoleon had to admit he was in complete agreement with the Aussie agent.

They arrived at the hotel passed dinner time but

Madeleine, manning the front desk volunteered to put something together for them. Illya, knowing the cat was out of the bag offered to join her in the kitchen.

Her cousin Martin had arrived to take over anyway so it worked out well enough for she and Illya to disappear together.

Martin clicked his tongue in annoyance at Madeleine going off with one of the guests. Ownership had its privelges he supposed as Maddy's parents were the sole owners of the hotel.

He shrugged. Why should he care, it was only a summer job to him. Maddy, had to live here and hadn't left this island very often. Not too many locals to pick from when it came to boyfriends, he supposed.

Martin sighed; he was missing his girlfriend Sheila back in Providence and city life as well.


	9. Chapter 9

"What do you know about cooking Illya?" Maddy asked as she retrieved some containers from the large commercial refrigerator.

"If we were cooking over a campfire and I had just killed and skinned a snake or a rabbit, then I would be fine. In a kitchen however, I can warm a can of condensed soup, and boil water for tea... oh yes, and I can make toast as well as cook eggs. That is the sumtotal of my home cooking skills."

"So that's all you eat?" Her look was priceless.

'I order in a lot of take out Chinese food."

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "Well let's put you what you know to use. You can poach up some eggs and handle the toast." She set a carton of brown eggs in front of him and a loaf of Wonder bread, pointing out the toaster and the egg poacher to him.

"I'll take care of the corned beef hash and the hash brown potatoes….and hmmm, how about some asparagus with hollandaise sauce, that'll do."

They had the meal ready in no time, and Illya reached round from behind the girl, wrapping his arms around her as he plated the eggs atop the hash, while she put the hash browns beside them. The asparagus were plated separately.

He couldn't resist nuzzling her neck.

'I like that," she whispered. "So could I come up to your room again tonight?"

'I was hoping you would ask, but I must make sure you understand something. I do not want to see you hurt; you need to realize there are no strings attached, yes?"

"I understand that. When this is all over you'll be going back to New York or somewhere else around the world. I'll be sorry to see you go, but you'll be leaving me with some great memories."

"Good, now that we have that straightened out…" he turned her around to face him and kissed her long and hard.

"Excuse me?" Napoleon peeked into the kitchen," but you have three very hungry sailors home from the sea out here."

"Coming right up Mr. Solo," she giggled, and wiggled free of Illya's arms.

"Madeleine I think you can call me Napoleon now, seeing as how you're pretty friendly with my partner."

Napoleon ducked as Kuryakin tossed a balled up dishrag at him, but it went flying past him, intentionally of course. Solo saluted before disappearing back to the dining room.

Illya and the girl carried the food out to the others, and Madeleine joined them as well. They avoided talking shop and instead Kitt and Mark managed to keep everyone amused with their joking as they all ate.

"Illya I think there's hope for you yet with your cooking," Napoleon said.

"Oh I only made the eggs and toast. Madeleine did the rest."

After eating, one by one Napoleon, Mark and Kitt began stretching and yawning rather conspicuously, realizing that there were too many of them at the table. After helping to clear away the dishes, they sauntered off to their rooms, leaving Illya and Madeleine alone together.

"May I help do the dishes?" He asked.

"No silly, we'll leave them for the morning crew to do. I'll just let them soak here in the sink," she stretched and yawned herself.

"Would you like to go upstairs or sit out on the porch for a bit?"

"Mmm, porch for a few minutes if you don't mind?"

"Not at all."

They walked out hand in hand, sitting again on the swing, and gazed up at the stars.

"So anything come of your trip today?" She wanted to ask earlier at dinner but sensed the men were avoiding the subject in front of her.

"We were unable to locate the boat you described but we do have a name. He is a possible suspect and we are convinced is involved with dumping chemicals in the water, causing the fish kills. Though we do not know why."

"Someone's doing it on purpose? Oh good Lord, chemicals?"

"Yes, we discovered a man named Eddie Thompson has been purchasing certain chemicals up and down the East coast. When combined these chemicals make a very short lived but potent cocktail that is killing the fish. The chemical mixture has had to have been continually dumped in order to cause these on going fish kills as it loses its strength very quickly and simple dissipates."

"Illya?"

"Yes Madeleine?"

"You know you can call me Maddie."

"I prefer Madeleine if you do not mind; it is a very elegant name."

"Gee elegant? I've never been called that before...well anyway, I wanted to tell you that name, Eddie Thompson, it rings a bell. I'm sure I recognize it."

"You do? He sat up straight, turning and looking directly at her.

"He's stayed here. It was about a month ago I think; let me go check the guest book." She walked into the lobby followed by the Russian.

"Martin! Wake up," she saw her cousin sleeping behind the desk."

"Sorry Maddie, I was studying for a test all day."

"Hand me the guest book please?"

"Sure," he lifted the large ledger up from behind the desk, setting it on top, right in front of her.

Madeleine began to quickly thumb through the pages.

"Yes I was right, her it is. I remember him now and his friends. We kicked them out of the hotel because they kept coming in with mud covered boots, stinking of fish and they were always filthy, carrying shovels and buckets. They were pretty rude to the other guests, except for Mr. Thompson. He was quiet, mousy even. He seemed to be an educated man, though it was his friends who were very rough around the edges."

"That description of Mr. Thompson rings true to what little we know of him. However, I have no information on any known associates. Shovels and buckets you say? I think we have seen these men trudging along the shoreline." Illya tapped his index finger to his lips.

"The Chief of the Coast Guard station said they had to chase them away from a place called Settler's Cove because of the rip tides there, though they seemed to have no interest in swimming. Captain Morton guessed they were…"

"Treasure hunters!" Madeleine blurted out. "That's right, that's what they were doing. We get them here sometimes, searching for Captain Kidd's buried treasure."

"Yeah," Martin interrupted."He was here on Block Island sometime in 1699, where he was supposedly supplied by a woman named Mercy Raymond, who was the daughter of the mariner James Sands. The story goes that for her hospitality, Mrs. Raymond was asked to hold out her apron, into which Kidd threw gold and jewels until it was full. After her husband died she left Block Island with her family, moving to Connecticut. There she bought a lot of land and her family was said family said to have been _"enriched by the apron._ It's going to be on our history test next week."

"That's true, "Maddy said."The rumors of Kidd having buried more of his treasure here still persist to this day. Gee, I remember as a kid, digging around the island with the daydream of finding gold doubloons."

Illya smiled at their very interesting story. Although treasure hunting and chemicals being dumped in waters around the island made about as much sense to the Russian as 1+1 equalling 3. There had to be something else nefarious going on.

"If we could find these men, then would could at least question their involvement in the poisoning of the waters here. Perhaps their treasure hunting is simply a cover story for something else they are doing?"

"Illya, I know where they are right now."

"Really and where is that?"

"I heard they were staying up at the old stone tower up on Beacon Hill. It's the highest point on the island and used to be an observatory, but now it's only rented out now and then. I'm pretty sure they're still there as they haven't checked into any of the other hotels here on the island, and as you said, they've been spotted by the Coast Guard recently."

"And how would you know that Madeleine?"

"Hey we hotel people talk to one another you know." She tapped her temple with her index finger.

"My dear, you are amazing." He planted an excited kiss on her lips.

"I can show you where the tower is; it's only a little over two miles from here. All we have to do is take Old Town Road straight up to Beacon Hill."

"Come on then," Illya grabbed her by the hand and led her out to his moped. She sat on the back behind him as he started it up and heading out onto Spring Street; she called out the directions to him from there.

It took all of five minutes to get to the house referred to as the tower, and it was as Madeleine had described it to him on the way there.

With the light from a full moon; Illya focused on the dark outline of stone house with a tower attached to it. A very simple structure, it reminded him of some homes he'd seen in areas of Pennsylvania. Beside it was parked a blue Rambler station wagon, the back loaded with shovels, pick axes and buckets.

No doubt they brought it over on the ferry from Point Judith located on the mainland.

He parked the moped far enough away, and told the girl to remain there with it while he went check out the house.

He didn't want to frighten her and drew his Special from its his shoulder holster as he drew closer to the stone building. A light shown through an open window and Kuryakin crept close to it as he heard voices coming from inside.

" _We need to finish up and get out of here. I heard tell there's some sort of cops creeping around the island asking questions."_

" _No not until we find more. I know we're close. I can just feel it."_

" _Eddie you been sayin' that for weeks now. We're runnin' out of supplies and we're only gonna keep people away for so long. It's been a month already for Chrissakes."_

" _Woodrow, I know I'm on the right trail to find Kidd's treasure. My map indicates burial sites all along the coast of the island. Better we chased away the curious, and the insufferable tourists while we were doing our scouting and digging."_

" _Don't call me Woodrow Eddie, my name is Sticks got it?"_

" _Woodrow is your given name and the name of one of the Presidents of our country. You should be proud to bear such an un grand nom."_

" _Stop acting like you're smarter than the rest of us Eddie."_

" _Why should I when I am?"_

" _I ought beat the living crap outta you!"_

" _But you won't because I'm the only one who can make sense of the map. Just be patient, and you'll be richer than you could ever imagine. We have one more delivery of chemicals on the way, and the biggest one yet. It will drive everyone away as it'll create the worse stench yet and will not only smell, but will make people sick. The island will shut down as people leave en masse to escape it. It's the final stage of my plan."_

" _Yeah about that stench Eddie," one of the other said," I can't take much more of it myself. How are we gonna keep from getting sick from this 'final stage bit?"_

 _Eddie Thompson tossed a pile of gas masks on the table._

" _This my friends will do the trick."_

That's all Illya needed to hear and he stepped away away from the window. He had to get back and wake the others.

"Snap!" He froze, having stepped on a dry piece of wood that broke in half beneath his foot.

Illya backed away slowly, barely breathing and that's when it happened. He was hit in the head with something hard, and he went down hard like a ton of bricks.

The sun was up, shining brightly through a window into Illya's eyes when they finally opened. He found himself in a position with which sadly, he was all too familiar.

His wrists were bound with rope behind his back and his ankles wrapped in duct tape. He was sitting on the floor; a piece of the tape across his mouth.

As Illya turned his head he saw, much to his dismay, the girl was beside him, bound and gagged as well. She appeared to be awake, and when she saw him looking at her, her tear-filled eyes went wide with desperation and fear.

" _Hey Eddie, our visitor is awake,_ " a rather greasy, dark haired man spoke. Behind him, sitting in an old arm chair sat the man Illya presumed was Eddie Thompson.

He rose from the chair, walking over to Kuryakin.

" _So who the hell are you?"_

Illya made a muffled noise before the dark haired one finally removed the gag, ripping the take painfully away.

"You should release me and surrender yourselves before you do any more damage to Block Island and its people, or you _will_ suffer the consequences."

Thompson broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Says who? A runt like you? So I'm going to ask you again, Mr. Illya Kuryakin who are you? Eddie held up the agent's gold ID card.

"What's this U.N.C.L.E. some sort of club or are you one of the cops we heard were lurking about and asking questions?"

There was silence. Illya chose for once to keep his mouth shut and not antagonize the men anymore than he already had. He had to think of the innocent girl who was tied up beside him.

At that exact moment Illya's communicator went off, chirping away where it was lying on the table along with his gun and wallet.


	10. Chapter 10

Napoleon quietly knocked on his partner's door, using their special code of course.

He'd peeked out his own door after the wakeup call got him up out of bed, and just out of curiosity he wanted to see if Madeleine would be taking another walk of shame.

After seeing she and Illya being quite amorous in the kitchen last night, it was pretty much a given the two of them would be doing the horizontal mambo again, so to speak.

He knocked again yet there was no answer and just for the heck of it Napoleon tried the door knob.

It opened with one turn, and he poked his head inside only to see Illya's bed hadn't been slept in. He knew for sure as Kuryakin never made his bed especially in a hotel, and it was too early for housekeeping to have done it.

The next best conclusion was that his partner had gone to Madeleine's room in the hotel, as he assumed the girl lived here.

Women usually seemed more comfortable being made love to in their own beds, under familiar surrounds. At least that was Napoleon's experience and he did have a lot of it in that area of expertise.

He shrugged, figuring he'd meet up with Illya down at breakfast as there was no way the Russian would pass up a delicious meal served buffet style like it was here.

Napoleon passed the desk and gave a little salute to the young man behind it. Yep, Madeleine was with Illya, no doubt of that.

Yet another and perhaps more important reason he knew Kuryakin wouldn't dally very long with the girl was they were officially on the clock. This was an assignment now and when it came to that, Illya was pretty much a stickler about how he spent company time.

Napoleon, causally dressed in khaki pants and a dark green polo shirt, sauntered into the dining room where he met up with Mark and Kitt, but still there was no sign of lover boy.

"Have either of you seen my partner?" He asked.

'Nope sorry mate, figured he'd gone off with that sheila Madeleine for the night, " Kitt said as he helped himself to eggs Benedict and a slice of ham.

"Between you and me, he didn't sleep in his room last night," Napoleon said under his breath.

"Then he went to the girl's place for a bit of the naughty," Kitt suggested.

"And maybe for a bit more privacy, to get away from us," Mark added. "We really do need to mind our business don't we? I mean listen to us talking about Illya's sex life like a bunch of old blatherskites."

"We're not gossiping," Napoleon said. "Nothing wrong with wondering where he's gone off to? I agree with Kitt, he's probably with Madeleine."

Napoleon fixed a breakfast plate for himself and sat at a table with the others.

They were nearly finished with their tucker as Kittridge called it, but there was still no sign of the Russian nor his female companion. Napoleon's patience was finally at an end.

"This isn't like him," he mumbled. "Excuse me for a minute." He got up and walked out to the front desk to speak to the clerk.

"Pardon me but I'm looking for Madeleine, I understand she's your cousin."

"I'm ready to disown her, the inconsiderate... she hasn't shown up for work yet. I'm tired you know, I've been here since last night and I need to get some sleep. I have to study for a big test tomorrow for summer school!"

"Did you try calling her?" Napoleon asked.

"Yes-I-did!" The young man was rather snippy, but Solo let it slide.

"Does she live in the hotel?"

"Room 1, the best one in the place. I get a postage stamp over the bar and it's real chintzy. She told me it's because I'm only here for the summer, and she lives here all year. It's not fair I tell you."

"Excuse me...umm Martin?" Napoleon read his name tag. "May I have the key to your cousin's room? It seems my friend is missing and he was with…"

"Yeah yeah I know, she was with the blond guy last night. They took off together on a moped. Never saw them come back, but Madeleine is pretty good at sneaking around, like I said, she didn't answer the phone this morning so I bet she didn't bother coming home."

"Do you have any idea where they might have gone?"

"Not really. She and your friend, came back in from the porch for a few minutes and she looked in the guest book for a name."

"And that was…"

"I don't remember. She got all excited when she found it and said something about the tower. Yeah that was it, she went on about some guys being up at the tower."

Napoleon lost his cool and he grabbed Martin by his jacket lapels, pulling him over the desk; holding the fellow nose to nose with him.

"Listen to me _Martin._ I want you to remember exactly what was said and I want you to tell me where this tower is located, got it?"

Martin turned as white as a sheet. "Okay okay, give me a second will ya?"

Napoleon released him, but continued to stare him down. Mark and Kitt had arrived and were standing behind Solo with their arms crossed in front of their chests, looking quite menacing.

"She said the name...ummm Eddie. Yeah that's it Eddie."

"Eddie Thompson?" Napoleon asked.

"That's it yes! Maddie said him and his friends had been kicked out of here about a month ago and they were renting the old tower up on Beacon Hill. Blondie got all excited and kissed her, and then they took off on the moped. I swear that's it Mister, that's all I remember."

"Martin one last question,"Napoleon said, and it shouldn't be hard to answer. How do we get to this Beacon Hill?"

He had some vague memories of a tower here, but it was one of the few places he'd not been to while visiting the island as a kid.

Martin sighed with relief. "Okay first you head out onto Spring Street, then take Old Town Road..."

The last thing Napoleon did as he headed outside was was to try to contact Illya; keeping his fingers crossed his partner and the girl were fine.

Knowing Kuryakin; he had a bad habit of dashing off to check out something on his own and getting into trouble, but this time he had an innocent with him. Napoleon was getting a bad feeling about this.

"Open channel F- Kuryakin. Illya are you there?"

There was no response, only static but that meant it was active.

"Let's go boys," Napoleon called out as he climbed on to his bike, though the others were already seated on theirs waiting for Solo's lead.

It took only a few minutes to reach Beacon Hill and there they spotted Illya's moped laying on its side, with no sign of either him or the girl.

Solo adjusted his communicator, switching it to home in on Illya's communicator signal, as it was active.

Napoleon's own communicator beeped with a near continuous signal when pointed at the house, meaning Kuryakin was in there, or at least his communicator was.

The only thing left to do was knock on the door and see what happened.

Mark and Kitt positioned themselves on either side of the little porch by the door….since there was no rear exit. All the windows were boarded up except for two of them.

Napoleon adjusted his tie and ducked his gun behind his back while he rapped on the door with his other hand.

"Yeah who is it?" A gruff though muffled voice called out.

Napoleon went into salesman mode. "Hi yes I'm the Fuller Brush Man, if I could just have a moment of your time?"

"Fuller Brush Man? You gotta be kidding! Go away Mac!"

"Is there a woman of the house?"

"No now get lost!"

"If I could just have a minute of your time, you'll receive an entire set of our swanky new men's brushes, free of charge. That includes and ivory handled hair brush, two shaving brushes, a shoe brush and even a toothbrush; tell you what I'll throw in a month's supply of shoe polish. All yours free of charge sir."

There was a click as the door was unlocked and slowly it opened.

"Okay I got a minute, as long as it means I get all that stuff for free."

Napoleon said nothing as he raised his left hand, and brought it down in a sharp karate chop to the man's neck, sending him into oblivion.

The agents quickly searched the premises and found no sign of Illya or the girl at all except for Kuryakin's gun, wallet and communicator lying on a table.

"Napoleon!" Mark shouted. He called Solo over to one side of the room, pointing to the floor.

There was blood there, lots of it and an ominous sight; Illya's yellow UNCLE ID card was laying in the middle of it and had been sliced in two.

Kitt hiked the unconscious man up into a chair, binding his hands with duct tape; he'd found a roll of it on the seat of one of the chairs. He slapped the bloke a few times, until the man woke.

When he came to, he tried to struggle but realized immediately it was pointless.

"Who the hell are you?" The prisoner demanded. "You ain't no Fuller Brush Man that's for sure!"

" _Bloody oath!_ " Kitt laughed.

"What kinda English you talking Mister. I don't understand what your sayin'."

"I'm a _fair dinkum Aussie you dipstick_. You're not in any sort of position to be making demands are you mate?" Kitt said. " Just listen as we're the ones who are going to be doing the asking."

"I ain't saying nothin'."

"Listen straight, you're going to give me the _drum_ or my friend here is going to get a little rough with you, _savvy?_

Slate made a fist and punched it into the palm of his other hand in a threatening manner. "Don't be a daft git mate?"

"What fuck are you talking about man?"

"Mister Kittridge, if you'd be so kind so as to allow me to clarify?" Napoleon stepped forward, shooting his cuffs.

"Hi there," he smiled charmingly. "My associate would like you to tell us what you did with Mr. Kuryakin and the young lady who was with him. Now if you don't give us that information then I'm afraid I'll have to let Mr. Slate here ummm, shall we say, 'do his thing,' on your face. that's to start. I don't think you'd like to know what Mr. Kittridge will do to you. And as a court of last resort, I can become involved physically, but if I rumple by suit by doing so…"

"That's right mate, if Napoleon rumbles is very expensive suit, the guilty party doesn't live to see the light of day," Mark leaned in, whispering to the man.

"Oh jeez when yous put it that way. Well Eddie, the boss that is, and the others they ummm, took your friends over to Grace Point to do a little swimming, if yous know what I mean?"

"No mate I don't know what you mean?" Mark smacked his fist again.

"They're gonna throw them off the boat, called 'The Jumping Jack', that's towboat what'll be carrying the last batch of them chemicals."

"What chemicals?" Napoleon asked.

"Eddie said they're really bad and they're going to chase everybody off the island. He brought us gas masks to use see, when he starts dumping them."

"When did they leave here?" Napoleon demanded.

"Just about five minutes before yous got here. Takes five minutes to get to the Point."

"And you're going to show us how to get there, right mate?" Kitt pressed the barrel of his Special against the prisoner's temple. "What's your name?"

"Joey."

"Well Joey, I reckon it's time you showed us the way," he spoke in a threatening tone.

"Sssure," he stuttered; his head on a swivel as he looked back and forth between Kittridge and Slate.


	11. Chapter 11

Eddie Thompson was nursing a bloody nose and split lip.

He'd made the mistake of leaning in towards Kuryakin; the Russian moved suddenly and quickly head butted him.

Thompson wasn't a man of violence and was completely shocked, not to mention dazed at being attacked like that.

He fell backwards, landing on his rear, with blood gushing all over his lips and down his chin.

"Oh my God!" He howled."The bastard...I think he broke my nose!"

"Split your lip too Eddie," Joey snickered.

Eddie put his hand to his face and it came back covered in bright red blood. He looked like he was going to faint and he started to hyperventilate.

"Take it easy Eddie," Joey said. He grabbed a dish rag, handing it to the man.

"You little shit!" The goon named Vinnie turned his attention to Illya.

He kicked Kuryakin in the stomach a few times until the agent toppled to his side, doubling over in pain. A fourth man called oddly enough, Silent Moe, wordlessly added a kick of his own for good measure.

Eddie was still gushing blood and his shock became anger. He picked up the yellow U.N.C.L.E. ID card from the table and with a nearby pair of scissors, he cut the card in half, tossing it to the puddle of his own blood on the floor.

"So there!"

Illya looked at him, his eyes crossed at first as his gut was killing him. "And this is supposed to mean something to me?" He grunted.

Vinnie kicked Kuryakin again, this time in the head; knocking him out cold.

"Look Eddie, I know you don't like no violence but we gotta do somethin' about these two. They seen us and they know what we been up to."

Thompson had been at the sink, rinsing a cold towel and holding it to his swollen face.

"What do you mean, 'do something with these two?" Is that as in hurt them some way?"

"Absolutely. We gotta make sure we got no witnesses. If the Feds got wind about what we been doing, then it would be up the river for sure."

"Up the river as in jail?"

"Not just jail Eddie, I'm talkin' the big time. Sing-Sing for sure."

The look on Thompson's swollen face was priceless but this time he hesitated before he spoke.

"No I'll have no part of of harming them."

"Not for nuttin' but we gotta do somethin' permanent like. Don't worry, me and Moe gotcha covered."

Eddie looked over at the unconscious blond lying on the floor, ignoring the girl beside him. Madeleine was still gagged, and had become so hysterical that she could barely breathe. Her tear-filled eyes were pleading to him, but he ignored her.

" _Fine,_ just don't tell me what you're going to do."

"Come on Moe, Joey," Vinnie called to the others," Help me get these _skutches_ outta here.

The two men gathered up Kuryakin and the girl, dragging them outside and stuffing them into the blue Rambler.

"So what are you going to do with 'em Vin?"

"We got our rubber dinghy hidden on the beach. I'll take 'em out to the water put 'em in it and we'll row it out when the towboat comes in.

Joey remained behind while Eddie, Vinnie and Quiet Moe drove off, heading to Grace Point, a cape with a raised sea bottom.

Usually it was a popular place for trolling and chumming or laying lobster pots, given there were several rocky areas. Few anglers worked the area as it was known for not being a good spot.

Vinnie's plan was to meet their towboat here, and they'd take the prisoners out into Block Island Sound. After weighing them down, Illya and Maddie would be tossed over the side. He figured there were plenty of sharks out in the sound who'd probably like themselves some fresh nosh.

"Last trip from Point Judith on the 'Jumping Jack' we saw a lot of them Makos and holy shit the Captain said there was a 21-foot white shark come right up under the boat. It stayed with us for about twenty minutes. You should'a seen it Joey! We seen some blue sharks too and I swear I saw me one of them hammerheads."

"That should make Eddie happy, cause _we_ ain't gonna be killin 'em...the sharks will. Hahahahaha!" Joey burst out laughing, and Vinnie joined him.

Moe as usual was silent.

Thompson came out of the house and climbed into the driver's seat of the Rambler and started it. He hesitated before putting it into drive.

He turned to Vinnie, a look of concern still in his eyes.

"You're going to make it quick right?"

Vinnie shook his head. He'd be glad to be rid of this egg head, and maybe just maybe him, Joey and Moe might end up making it a three-way split when they really found the treasure. What Eddie showed them, about 50 gold doubloons, is just the tip of the iceberg, or so Eddie said.

Once they cleared most everybody off the island they'd be able to use the dynamite they brought instead of doing all this lousy digging. That's when pay day would would finally be here.

It was a short trip, and once they ran out of road they parked the car. Vinnie and Moe pulled Illya from the car, cutting the duct tape binding his ankles. They held him up between them as they trudged down the sandy hill down to the beach.

Eddie grabbed Madeleine, slicing the tape binding her legs as well.

"Look I'm sorry Miss. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. We were just looking for the treasure. You and your boyfriend never should have come around. Really this is all your fault."

Eddie had a way of rationalizing things that seemed to deflect any sense of wrong doing away from himself.

Madeleine jerked away from him, freeing herself of his grip and took off, running back towards the road. Eddie went after her grabbing her from behind, sending the poor girl flying forward, slamming into the ground.

"I'm so sorry, really I am," he helped Maddie to her feet, and ever so gently he peeled back the tape covering her mouth.

"Get your hands off me you animal!" She continued resisting and kept putting on the brakes with her feet as he pulled her with him.

Eddie finally found his inner anger and lashed out at the girl, slapping her across the face.

"Now no more of your shit! Don't make me hit you again?"

Madeleine felt as though all the strength had suddenly drained from her entire body. There were no more tears as she walked along now like a zombie, convinced she and Illya were going to really die.

Once they were all down to the beach, Vinnie retrieved the rubber dinghy hidden among the underbrush.

There was a mist that still hadn't burned away over water; it was preventing them from seeing the towboat.

Vinnie and Moe weren't worried as they were a little early anyway. Instead they took the time to toss Illya and the girl into the boat.

It bobbed in the water as the waves gently washed in along the sand, while the men held onto the ropes so it wouldn't drift off.

"We'll wait until the fog clears," Vinnie mumbled. "Jumping Jack should be here in just about fifteen minutes.

Just above them out of view, the UNCLE agents arrived. After shooting Joey with a sleep dart, they abandoned the mopeds and crawled to the edge of the low bluffs.

None of them had their accoutrements to convert their Specials to carbines, and it would be a bit of a stretch to shoot accurately. Yet it wasn't impossible.

At least Illya and the girl were not in the way.

"Okay gentlemen," Napoleon said."Make your shots count.  
I'll take the one on the left, Mark you take the one with the black shirt."

"That leaves the ginger haired bloke for me," Kitt said."Come on ya little bugga', stand still for daddy."

"On the count of three,"Napoleon said. "One-two-three."

"Pfffft!" They all shot at the exact same moment and watched as their targets dropped like flies one by one.

"Beautiful!" Napoleon stood up immediately, and side stepped down the sandy incline to the beach.

"Oh crap!" He began to run when he realized the dinghy was disappearing out onto the water into the mist.

By the time he got to the water's edge, the rope was gone, lost under the water and the boat was nowhere to be seen.

Napoleon went straight to the unconscious men and searched their pockets, finding what he needed and that was the keys to the Rambler.

He tossed them to Mark. "Get back to that house and call the Coast Guard and tell them we have a search and rescue for them off Gross Point!"

"On it!" Slate caught the keys and scrambled up to where the car was parked. It would definitely be much faster than a moped.

Out on the water, Madeleine felt like the dinghy was rocking more than it should and she pushed herself up on her elbows to peek over the edge. There were no waves lapping on the shore and nothing but mist surrounding them; the men who'd held them prisoner weren't anywhere to be seen.

" _Illya?"_ She nudged him with her shoulder as she called his name. "Illya please wake up?" She started to cry, thinking he was already dead.

He groaned, hearing his name and opened his eyes.

" _Madeleine?"_

"Oh thank God you're alive! Illya we're in a dinghy out on the water all by ourselves. I don't know what happened to those men."

"I have a good idea what might have. I think Napoleon and the others have caught up with them."

"How could you know that?"

"Instinct and I know Napoleon very well. If there were anyone who could find us in the nick of time, it is him. Now if you will just sit back to back with me so I can untie your wrists and then you can untie mine when you are free."

He managed to undo the knots in a few minutes and then she freed him.

Illya looked around for a paddle but there was none. They would simply drift until they were rescued. His usual fatalism was kept at bay as he simply knew this time his partner and the others would find them, eventually.

In the meantime he wrapped his arm around Madeleine's shoulders, pulling her close to him. She was shaking and terribly frightened.

"I am sorry I got you involved in all this. I never should have brought you with me to the tower." He reached over and brushed her wind blown hair out of her eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

She nodded, and Illya lifted her chin, bringing her lips close to his and gently kissed her.

"You will be fine, trust me."

"I do."

Something bumped the raft and Illya sat up, peering out into the fog covered water and there he spotted an immense fin gliding past them.

"What was that?"

He decided not to tell the girl the truth, as she was frightened enough.

"It was just a bit of flotsam and jetsam, a piece of driftwood that tapped the dinghy."

He wrapped his arm around her again, holding her tightly as she was still shivering. Though it was July, being pulled out into Rhode Island Sound, the dampness of the mist filled air made it uncomfortable, though he suspected it was fear more than anything that was making her shake.

Within the hour the sun had at last burned off the remaining mist and they were rescued by the Coast Guard.

Two hours later they were back at the hotel, Illya confined to bed with cracked ribs, and Madeleine feeling well enough, was playing nursemaid to him.

He was shirtless though his chest had been carefully wrapped and taped by a local doctor.

Napoleon and the others were there in Kuryakin's room on a group briefing with Alexander Waverly via Solo's communicator.

"Yes sir," Solo answered." It wasn't THRUSH after all. With the exception of Thompson, the others were just simple minded thugs, who were seeing nothing but dollar signs."

"Yes," Illya added," Thompson's line of thinking was apparently in error. Though there were rumors there was treasure on the island, it was most likely just that. Legend and nothing more.

"A job well done gentlemen and you Miss Waterbury, you're a courageous young lady, but in the future I caution you to be more careful. Regardless, thank you for your help."

"Yes sir, without it we never would have located Eddie Thompson, and prevented the worst chemical release yet," Illya called out.

Napoleon spoke up."The Coast Guard have taken custody of Thompson and his cohorts as well as the Captain and crew of the towboat 'Jumping Jack,' The remaining oil drums filled with chemicals will be sent to be destroyed. Our Rhode Island lab is testing samples to see exactly what concoction Thompson came up with in his plan to drive away nearly the entire population of Block Island to see if they can come up with some sort of counter agent, just in case there's any residuals in the environment."

"Quite a scheme to allow them to hunt for buried treasure, wot?" Waverly said.

"Thompson claimed he had a map showing where Kidd's treasure had been buried," Slate pointed out," but once we got a look at it, it was apparently one of his own devising. He drew it based on his studies."

"Well he did find some gold, did he not gentlemen?"

"Yes sir. We found a small cache of gold doubloons in the tower on Beacon Hill," Illya said."Captain Kidd was supposed to have absconded with eighty pounds of silver and a bag of gold weighing forty pounds from a boat called the Quedah Merchant which was an Armenian merchant ship, presumed sailing under a French flag. So one could logically presume the currency on the vessel was more in the form of gold and silver bars and not Spanish doubloons, though I cannot be one hundred percent certain of this. Thompson's research was erroneous as Kidd having visited Block Island in 1699, wherein he was supplied by a Mrs. Mercy Raymond. The story goes that for her hospitality, Mrs. Raymond was bid to hold out her apron, into which Kidd threw gold and jewels until it was full. After her husband died, she moved with her family to northern New London Connecticut, where she bought land with the treasure given to her. So it is quite possible no treasure was buried here, again I can not be completely certain of this."

"Your point Mr. Kuryakin?" Waverly asked. He was accustomed to his Russian's long winded explanations and logic.

"Well the doubloons we found cannot be traced historically so they would not carry the same value as coins that could definitely be linked to a specific pirate or wreck. They would make small reparation for the damage to the economy of Block Island and seeing as how Miss Waterbury was instrumental in the capture of the culprits and preventing an even worse disaster ...I suggest we give them to her as a reward."

"I understand," the Old Man hesitated.

"Sir there are fifty-two coins, each one containing slightly over twenty-six grams of gold. At the current price of gold which is just over thirty-five dollars an ounce, the value of the coins just on their gold content would be roughly sixteen hundred dollars. Slightly more for numismatic value, to a dealer in such coins perhaps."

"Very well,"Waverly said. "You may give the doubloons to Miss Waterbury. Use them wisely young lady as it's a rare opportunity to come by such an unexpected sum."

"Yes sir Mr. Waverly and thank you! Maybe I'll do some traveling," Maddie spoke up. She winked at Illya as she said it.

"Very well, gentlemen since you have some vacation days coming to you as compensation I suggest you spend it there on the island. I hear the fish situation has cleared thanks to the recent storm. It apparently reeked havoc on the North Shore of Long Island, well that's neither here nor there. Enjoy the weather as I will have assignments awaiting your attention when you return. Waverly out."

Madeleine parked herself on the edge of the bed next to Illya and the Russian reached out, taking her hand in his.

"Well ahem…"Napoleon said. "I don't know about you _Mark and Kitt,_ but I'm going to go do a little sun bathing. I heard some bikini clad tourists are sunning themselves on the lawn here as we speak."

The two men stood there looking at each other for a moment.

"Well can you not take a hint?" Illya said.

"Or is that a hike?" Madeleine quipped.

"Oh right, gotcha, Kitt said."Come on mate, two's company and three's a _mob._

Once the door was closed and locked, Maddie whispered,

"Now where were we Mr. Kuryakin?" She leaned over, preparing to kiss him.

"Be gentle, I am a wounded man," he said. He reached up and pulled her into his arms.

He jerked as her weight against his ribs sent him into a sudden spasm of pain.

"Ow! I guess that was not a good idea," he winced.

"Wait a minute, I have a better one." Maddie moved to the side, lifting her leg over and straddling Illya's pelvis before leaning in for another kiss. She supported herself on her arms, avoiding his chest.

"Mmmm, much better," he whispered. "I like a woman who takes charge."

"I noticed. Now shut up and kiss me."

"I think I will," Illya lost himself in that kiss...

Finis

.

Translations:

skutch- pain in the ass/annoying person

nosh- food

mob- group of people or things, not necessarily unruly


End file.
